08.29.01 - 6:41 p.m.

Levi's says their new jeans are superlow, but honestly, I see no difference between where the pair I just bought sits on my hips and where all my other jeans fit me. I've always been a girl who felt anything above the bellybutton was too constricting, to the point where my moom's deathly concern (apart from going to Pittsburgh, where people die) was that my pants would fall off of their own accord. "You're naked!" was her battle cry. Thank god my hips decided to make their appearance senior year of college. It's like wisdom teeth; you're going along as usual in your life and one day, POOF! You have to deal with a little something extra.

But there was a downside to the hips' entry into my life. Though I looked no different, really, I had to give up three or four pairs of pants that were obviously sized for fourteen-year-old girls. One of these was a pair of jeans I found at the Salvation Army for $2 while on a His Dude shopping spree. They were authentic old school; dark denim before dark denim was cool again, styley brown stitching on the ass pockets, big old Wrangler patch on the waistband, and most importantly, tight as all fuck. I looked like Eric Foreman's sister on That 70s Show.

Alas, being as tight as they were meant there was no room for my new hips inside, and I reluctantly sent them back to the resale shop last summer, where I can only pray they make some other skinny fashionista gloriously happy. I could never find another pair of jeans to compare with their old school splendor until today. Granted, these new ones set me back 50 bucks more than the originals - damn inflation - but they remind me of my greatest Salvation Army find in so many ways. And that, my friends, is worth every penny.