I came back from my holiday recharged and feeling good (pushing back all thoughts of the work that was to hit me once back in office and the credit card bills we rent expected for 3 more weeks...so i was pretty much in a feel good mode). Monday morning didn't feel as bad, it actually felt good to get to work (does happen occasionally to many of us, i am sure). One thing though, kept bothering me...I couldn't find my 'that' jeans.I had unpacked all the bags,made calls to mum, did i forget it in Bombay? did i leave it behind in Pune? or forget it in the service apartment at Singapore???
I live so often in this particular jeans,that it was unlikely that i could have forgotten them somewhere.But they were so much of a second skin, it was hard to recollect when i wore them last.Each passing day i felt more miserable...losing all hope of finding my jeans...my 'that' jeans which made me feel me, helped me hold myself up in low times,made me look 2 kgs lighter and looked trendy and sexy depending on what i wore with it. How could i lose them? My most versatile , vivacious well cut jeans.
In a week's time, (time just pushes you to move on. sigh)i started giving up all hope of finding my jeans. Come Saturday and i stepped out in search of another jeans while i fretted and questioned myself, would they make me feel the same way?
As i stood in the aisle looking at rows and rows of black,blue,grey,beige jeans...lots and lots of jeans...my heart sank. how was i to find my jeans? TRY TRY TRY AND TRY. Some too tight, some odd in the cut, some just made me looked stuffed in and some just made me feel 'not so good'. I walked out in a huff...consoling myself that maybe i should buy something else and postpone my jeans shopping. Let me look for a dress, a t shirt, a skirt anything that would brighten me up and make me forget my longing for the right jeans.
As i looked through slinky,shiny (sorry shining...rather avoid using shiny) knitted, printed garments, my eyes fell on a rack of jeans. The store was a very fussy frilly style garments store...so i was surprised to see jeans.
Just 4 styles and 3 sizes per style. Something about how the jeans looked on the rack, the detailing, the pocket cut, the just right shade of blue...My heart was beating fast,could it be the one? The sales woman smiled and handed me just the pair i had locked eyes with.
As if in a dream i walked into the trial room and got into the jeans. I didn't need to look in the mirror, i felt different. I felt like we belonged together. and then just to reassure my rational brain, i did the usual bending, half squat and checking the rear fit to satisfy myself that i wasn't getting carried away. I pulled myself to full height and took a deep breath.
As i looked my reflection in the mirror, the moment of realisation sank in. I had met my jeans. The jeans that were my dream jeans, my reality jeans...They transformed me, they informed me (the difference between a curve and a bulge), they shared my enthusiasm for life.
As i paid at the counter, holding the bag in my arms and smilingly thought...
You don't buy a pair of jeans...you meet your jeans and fall in love at the first fit!
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