Pantsquest (aka Why I Really Hate Emo and Hipsters)

Well, yesterday finally marked the day that my bloated ass pushed me to a new frontier.

I'll explain.

It makes me feel like a female to admit this, but I have an impossible time finding pants that fit. I've got a skinny waist coupled with a huge butt and thick thighs. Think a less-extreme version of Barry Sanders (without the crazy athleticism, millions of dollars, YouTube highlight reels and Tecmo Super Bowl immortality, of course). So when it comes to pants, I have three choices:

1. Buy a pair that fits in the waist. This would work, as long as I never bent over or tried to put anything in my pockets. Horribly uncomfortable. Clearly the worst option. I've been told this is how womens' jeans are designed to fit. This is ludicrous.

2. Buy a pair that fits the thighs. Of course, this leaves me with about six extra inches of fabric around the waist that folds over when I put a belt on. Far more comfortable, but I look like I'm a little kid borrowing his dad's clothes. Not recommended.

3. Rapper jeans.

Damn skippy. Fubu. Roca Wear. Freakin' Sean John. They're the only jeans that fit comfortably, which leads me to the inevitable conclusion that I have ghetto booty. I'm kinda proud of it. Unfortunately (since we're feeling list-oriented today), there are three big problems with rapper jeans...

a) I'm white. And I refuse to be that guy, the middle-class white kid who heard Snoop Dogg one day and decided he was from the 'hood. So I can wear rapper jeans, but not ones with big logos covering the entire ass (which, as discussed above, is ample in my case). I also have to restrict myself to certain brands. Fubu is out entirely, until they start marketing "For Whitey, By Us." Sean John is out too, because "P Diddy sucks" is one of those universal truths, and I can't give him my money. Which pretty much leaves Roca and Ecko.

b) They're hard to find. There's one store in a 100-mile radius that stocks them. That's what I get for living in one of the whitest parts of the whitest states in the country (no, not Utah). And that store doesn't carry many, so if they don't have my size or a decent style, I'm SOL. Why don't more stores sell rapper jeans? Well, probably because...

c) They're going out of style. Which brings me back to Emo and hipsters and all those heroin-skinny bastards parading around in pants that I couldn't get over my calves, let alone my thunder thighs. I blame the death of commercial hip-hop (Sean Kingston? Soulja Boy? Are you fucking kidding me?) and the rise of shitty garage-rock bands. The music discussion is probably best saved for a later post, but the decline of rap music has been a double-barrelled blow for me; I can't find new music I like, and I can't buy any more pants. Damn it all.

My last hope? Work pants. Made for contractors and mechanics and dockworkers and lots of people manlier than me. Help me Carhartt, you're my only hope. Except that, once again, nobody around here sells the damn things.

So finally, we come full circle to the new frontier I mentioned waaaay up at the top... the internet. Yes, I work for a tech company. In fact, I work from home all day with only instant messaging keeping me in touch with my coworkers and friends. I have a blog, for chrissakes. You'd think I'd be comfortable buying stuff online, and you'd be right for the most part. But clothes that I've never even seen, much less tried on? When I'm pickier about the fit of my clothes than anyone else I know? This is going to be interesting. The new pants arrive via UPS on Monday. My hypothetical readers wait with baited breath to find out what happens. But I can tell you this much... if they fit, I'm going back online and stockpiling those motherfuckers like Mormons do with bottled water. And if they don't fit? I'm taking the Plain White T's* hostage until my demands are met and my ghetto booty is comfortably clothed.

* Side note on the Plain White T's: their label is called "Fearless Records," but these guys look (and sound) like they'd be afraid of lots of things. Like the dark. And strong winds. And possibly hyperactive kittens.