For as long as I can remember I have disliked jeans. I always found them to be too constricting on my muscular legs and, at five foot one and a half with most of my height in my torso, I find that jeans—even the ones that are made “for petites”—are a touch too long and gap awkwardly at my waist.
I also have some pretty distinct memories from my adolescence of people commenting on my behind. Those comments ranged from, “Wow, your butt is surprisingly big” to “You don’t usually see an Asian girl with curves” and my absolute favorite, “Damn, Ma, you thick.” Actual words that were said to me. Always unsolicited, sometimes well-intentioned, from good friends, from my grandma and from total strangers in passing.
Thus began my adulthood aversion to jeans and foray into flowy dresses and skirts that slimmed my bottom half and put an end to the unwelcome commentary from the peanut gallery. Midi skirts? I own dozens. Breezy dresses? They are my religion. Jeans? No, thanks.
Then I happened upon a pair of high-waisted, wide-legged Levis last year that reminded me of those Jnco jeans everyone wore in the '90s. Only these were much slimmer and cropped above the ankles, so they didn’t make the wearer look like they were drowning in denim potato sacks.
