So darlings it may surprise you, but on average I only spend about 24 hours a year wearing a dress (emceeing Third Friday Bingo, hosting the occasional Fun Bus to Wendover, scaring the crap out of heterosexual Marines, you know … that sort of thing). The rest of the time I wear men’s clothing, and according to many of my friends, really dull and absolutely devoid of fashion and taste, men’s clothing at that. And pumpkins, here’s why that’s important.
There is one thing in my frenzied and varied life that has been constant for as long as I can remember. I have always, repeat always, worn 38×34 pre-washed Levi 501 jeans. Just plain 501’s. No trendy boot cuts, or relaxed fits, or straight legs, or distressed denim. And because Momma likes to eat, you can completely forget about me ever wearing skinny cut or low rider jeans because you know damn well that ain’t gonna happen! Because kittens at heart, I, Ruby Ridge, am just a simple girl with simple down-to-earth tastes. 501’s are about as couture as I ever get. But sadly peaches, there has been trouble in copper rivet paradise. Over the last few months, four, count them, four pairs of my trusty 38×34 Levi’s have blown out in the crotch, which tells me in no uncertain terms that the Denim Gods are angry and they must be avenged!
So with American Express in hand and wearing my least ventilated pair of torn jeans (off set by a pair of stunning pool-table-green pair of undershorts), I trundled off to the closest JCPenney which just happened to be at the Valley Fair Mall in West Valley. After sifting through shelves and shelves of jeans I finally found the Holy Grail, a pair of 40×34’s. With no small amount of shame and regret, I skulked into the fitting room and tried them on, and yes dammit, they fit fine.
So jealously guarding my hard fought find, my plan was to go back onto the sales floor and buy three or four more pairs in different types of denim, you know, so my wardrobe had some cursory resemblance of variety. I looked, and I looked and couldn’t find bupkis. I guess their Menswear buyer realizes that their West Valley shopper demographic consists mainly of Mexican cowboys and Asian street racers, because seriously muffins, most of the jeans could have been hanging in a Baby GAP.
Finally in desperation, I went up to a store clerk who was stocking merchandise and asked if they had any other 40×34’s in back stock and this is what he said to me, absolutely verbatim darlings, I kid you not. “Well, I doubt it because that’s a really weird size,” WTF!!!! “Dude! I’m standing right here and I can hear you,” I thought to myself indignantly. I should have corrected him with a quick bitch-slap with my Carhartt gloves (see I told you I was a style icon) but I thought better. I dragged my wounded ego and my battered body image to the cash register and fumed out with my token pair of hopefully not-crotchless pants. The moral of the story petals? I hope your Christmas shopping is going a hell of a lot better than mine. Happy Holidays cherubs!
You can see Ruby Ridge and the Matrons of Mayhem in all of their polyester glory at Third Friday Bingo (every Third Friday of the month at 7pm) at First Baptist Church (777 South 1300 East). This months charity recipient is the Salt Lake Valley Habitat for Humanity Program (Love these guys!).