Zenitude #36: Master The Chicken Wing Jeans Dance

The stupid, wicked jeans fairy shrunk my jeans! It’s totally not my fault. That tiny winged bitch!

So here’s how it went down:

Hmmmm…I think these jeans will still fit over my baby back, baby back, baby back butt. Step right into them and rock ‘em, girl. Ain’t nothing but a chicken wing.

Picture this:

Left leg…okay, it’s going to be tight. Right leg…ummm. Geez. Glad they (heavy sigh) made it past my calves! Wiggle wiggle wiggle…wiggle. Wiggle. Damn! My thumbs hurt from pulling – stupid jeans shrinking fairy. Okay. Just a little bit more. You got this. If The Husband walks in…I’ll pretend I’m taking them off. Over the left hip. Over the right hip. If I could just...kill that damn fairy. There! Suck it in. Zip. Button. Turning blue.

Now enters The Chicken Wing Jeans Dance (and you know you've done this, but now it has a name).

Squat all the way down until your bum touches your heels. (Yes, ouch! Don’t be a wuss! It must be done.) Next step. Bounce in that squat. And bounce and bounce and bounce. Hit those heels. You should be on your tippy-toes in the "squat bounce" by now. After about 6 good bounces, start flapping your thighs in and out, side to side, in and out -- like flailing chicken wings. Don’t worry who walks in at this point. You’ve made it this far. The end is in sight. Bounce. Flap. Bounce. Flap. Flap. Flap. Bounce. Ta Da! You’ve mastered The Chicken Wing Jeans Dance. Screw that fairy! Who needs Zumba! I’m sweatin’ bullets. Exercise for the day. Check.

Stand up. Slowly... Jeans still not stretched out? Stop it. Stop it right there, sister. Do not pass go. Do not collect 200. Go gobble a glass of wine. Go to your party. Wear those jeans like a boss.

Zenitude for today:

Life is short. Wear your jeans like a boss. (And master The Chicken Wing Jeans Dance.)