I love you for lying to me.
When I wake up in the morning, and I have my choice of jeans to pull on, I choose yours. Sure, it’s partially because they are cute, and I like the way they fit, but mostly, it’s because while all my other pants say “size 8,” you say, “size 4.”
Sure, I know it’s a lie. I know it is a terribly delightful mistake that just happen to land in my favor, but I still love you for it.
In fact, your shameless lies were so convincing, that when I went swim suit shopping today, I tried on a size 6 bikini. There isn’t a lot of that story worth retelling, except that my two-year old shouted, “EWW! GROSS MOMMY! THAT LOOKS DISGUSTING!” And that I left the store with a size 10 one-piece in my shopping bag. But it was all ok, because my bum was encased with pants that read “size 4″ on the label.
So when I am at the beach, playing with my kids in my new red suit, guess what will be perfectly strewn on my beach chair? You guessed it, my size 4 Old Navy jeans, maybe with giant magnifier glass over the label, just so that anyone who’s curious can see.
I love you Old Navy for lying to me. And I REALLY love you for being so darn convincing. -H
