My First Pair of Jeans, Ever.

I wasn’t nearly this cool…

During the recent Blogapalooza I had challenged the group there to draft 100 blog posts in 60 minutes on the things that they were curious or passionate about. I personally decided to write about jeans.

I drafted seven 300 word blog posts in 60 minutes and I’ve been sitting on them, not sure whether or not to publish them. Well, I’ve decided to publish them, especially since they are a very different sort of topic than what you’ll typically find.

But, I had a blast writing them and I consider it a great exercise for me personally in writing.

So, here goes the first! I hope you enjoy reading about something that I am really interested in other than team science, startups, and blogging!

My Random Series:

  1. My First Pair Ever (You’re reading it now!)
  2. Jeans, I Would Die for You
  3. The Most Important Accessory to a Good Pair of Jeans
  4. Wearing Jeans Until Death
  5. Thug to Skinny
  6. The Question of Wearing a Belt with Your Jeans
  7. The Right Color Matters

My First Pair of Jeans, Ever.

I can remember the first time that I tried on a pair of jeans – I hated it. I can remember the scratchy feeling of the cloth against my skin and how it simply rubbed me the wrong way, in every direction.

Add insult to this injury is the fact that it rode my underwear up really, really high. I hated that just as much (naturally). I was already a socially awkward kid in elementary school and anything related to clothing style was out of the question for my natively and instinctively. I didn’t have any “style” or “coolness” and I never thought I would.

So why bother, right?

But because I was late for school that day and because I had no clean options (literally) I was forced to commit and I made my way to the bus stop nearly in tears.

I think the bus driver noticed because she asked me, in her sweet yet strangely-husky voice, “Are you ok hon?”

I wasn’t. I wanted to drop dead and die. And I remember walking around school all day thinking that everyone noticed. No, I knew, without a shadow of a doubt that everyone had it in for me and was laughing on the inside about this skinny asian kid who’s jeans didn’t fit right and who has self-wedgie’d himself because of it.

By the grace of God I survived my classes, lunch, and even PE and made it back onto the bus finally and I collapsed in the middle section, right between the 1st graders and the socially-dominating 3rd, 4th, and 5th graders. I was exhausted from having to try to be someone I wasn’t.

I would have sat in the very back but I wasn’t a part of the cool kids group (some 2nd graders were apparently cool enough to hang with the 3rd graders+) so I sat in the middle, next to sweaty Joey who never seemed to remember to brush his teeth.

I couldn’t wait until the bus docked at my stop and I ran off the bus, nearly tripping through the door. I sprinted home as fast as I humanly could, threw my bag on the floor and stripped those god-forsaken pants off my legs – I had had enough and I never wanted to wear another pair ever again.

And that, my friends, was my first experience with jeans. And now they have become my most favorite article of clothing, ever.

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