Coral Amber

Over the weekend, I bought what can only be called “mom jeans.” They have a comfort-no-gap streatch waistband that reaches my navel. Of course, they bring back brain flinching memories of being called “Urkel” in junior high, but I actually sought them out on purpose. The weight I gained since last time I bought jeans has caused all my lower rise pants to give me a delectable muffin top that I secretly fear will someday land me on peopleofwalmart.com. These high-waisted wonders slim the bulge without cutting into me and make me look taller and leaner. So, in the fight between sweating to the oldies and and shopping with the oldies, laziness has won out for now, but there maybe a rematch this summer.