Maybe the Growing is the Point

On friendship, denim, and stretching out

I’m wearing pants that are too small. I knew this when I put them on, and yet I left the house anyway. They used to be my favorite pants, but obviously, time has rendered them ineligible for that title anymore. But I, living in the past, decided to “just go with it” and wear them again. The result? As I type, I am constantly aware of my waistband - and, by association, my clearly-bigger-than-it-was stomach. Once they’re on, I start to feel like something is wrong with my body. Really, the only thing wrong with me is that I thought squeezing into my old jeans and going to get coffee was a good idea.

The interesting thing about moving back home after a long time is that you are constantly trying to fit into pants that no longer fit.