It's Not You, It's Your Jeans

This one got a big 'ol rejection from McSweeney's, but it did get accepted at jenstatsky.com, so I'm feeling pretty good about myself ...

"A 25-Year Old Fashionista Holds an Intervention for her Boyfriend and his Skinny Jeans"

Hi, honey! How was work? That’s nice. Yeah, it was ham. Oh, what’s up with all the empty chairs? Well ... I just thought I’d try something new in the living room today! OK, OK, why don’t you have a seat, I have something I need to talk to you about. Yeah, any one of them is fine. But, oh, careful, I don’t get the security deposit back from the rental place if they’re all scuffed up.

This is an intervention. I know there’s no one else here and that’s kinda a standard intervention “thing,” but I’ve gotta tell you, I’ve been trying to organize everyone for weeks now and no one’s calendars ever seemed to match up. It’s crazy, we are all so busy. Todd’s doing that freelance design work until the holidays and just doesn’t have a minute to spare, Craig and Jessie just got the puppy – which we have to go see before he gets too big – so their hands are tied. Nick emailed me last minute to say that he pulled a groin muscle – of all things for Nick to pull, right? – at the gym, so he couldn’t show, and it was so weird with Leslie, she never answered any of my texts, but she said her phone is really weird about that stuff, especially when she’s been on the subway or whatever, so I don’t know. I keep telling her to get a Blackberry – well, I guess I keep texting her to get a Blackberry, so now I don’t even know - but she likes her big ugly old phone, and you know how she doesn’t listen to anyone else, like, ever. Oh my God, do you remember the other day, when we were at brunch and Jeff called it the “Zack Morris?” How funny was that?! You remember that, right? Sooo funny. Jeff really should do stand up. I keep telling hin.

But I know from everyone’s responses to the mass e-mail I sent that they’re with me on this, and more importantly, they want you to know that they’re behind you. Well, I guess that’s a good place for me to start … from behind you. What everyone sees when they’re behind you. Honey, it’s your jeans. Your skinny jeans. Your ass tight skinny jeans. They’re just too … tight. And skinny. Other than that, I guess they’re OK, although you probably could have picked a more flattering wash.

No one is blaming you here. It’s not your fault that you probably said, “hey, these are pretty popular, Orlando Bloom looks great in them, I’ll buy a pair.” But honey, Orlando Bloom is an ectomorph, and you’re a mesomorph. Do you know what a difference that makes? You guys shouldn’t even really be shopping at the same store, let alone the same rack.

Baby, the thing is, I’m really not going to be one of those overbearing girlfriends who tries to run your life … but do you remember your Mom’s birthday last month, when I told you you had to come to my cousin Lisa’s house for her Arbor Day barbeque? Well, we were all playing Bocce Ball in the backyard? Well, you wore your skinny jeans, and every time you bent down, you had muffin top. You know, when the fat spills out the side of your jeans and it looks like … yeah, OK, well you get it. I don’t have muffin top, and I’m a girl, honey. It’s weird for a guy to have muffin top. It’s like seeing him order strawberry ice cream, or cry.

You’re speechless, I know. It’s really hard hearing someone tell you what you’ve been doing, fashion-wise, is hideously inappropriate for your body type. And when I say I know, I mean I really know. Remember my ex-friend Kristen? One time she told me that she liked my hair better wavy than straight. And I had been wearing my hair wavy for, like, two years. You should feel good about the fact that you’ve only been wearing skinny jeans for about three and a half months. And I know that it’s been that long, because it was right after my birthday, and I remember thinking, “ugh, first twenty-five, and now this?”

Sweetie, where are you going? Oh, okay. Great. That’s perfect. You just pack those skinny jeans right up and we’ll bring them to the Salvation Army on the way to the mall. God knows someone there will be skinny enough to pull them off! No, I’m totally kidding, that was bad.

Wait, honey, you don’t have to get rid of your other clothes too, those are fin – hey, don’t be silly, we can just throw them in a trash bag, you don’t need to use your big old suitcase!

Oh, oh, okay, you want to go alone, that’s fine. Don’t worry about the chairs you knocked over, I can pick them up! I’m so proud of you!

Hey, babe?! Could you pick me up some strawberry ice cream while you’re at the mall?