Tuesday, November 19, 2013

The Time I Bought Men's Jeans


As Calculus talk goes, functions can have both local minimums and local maximums, as well as absolute minimums and absolute maximums. My friends like to take these terms and apply them to real-life situations. For example: "Omg, he completely snubbed me, whatta local min." Or this: "Guys, I just ate 12 donuts. Absolute minimum."

There's a fine line between what distinguishes a situation as a local vs. absolute minimum, and since I don't think of myself as a drama queen, I'm going to classify the multiple trips that I made to the Gap in the past 24 hours as a cumulative local minimum.

The Gap is right next to the subway that I take home from work. Every day I pass by the windows and think: a) I'm ethnic enough to have been a Gap kids model in my #youth, b) I could really use another oversized men's sweater. Usually I don't go in because I'm busy jamming to Robyn on my iPod and wondering what vegetables my mom is steaming for dinner, but yesterday I decided to stop in because I heard 'Bleeding Love' playing in the store and I really like 'Bleeding Love.'

Once inside, I was reminded about how much the Gap makes me want to wear striped scarves and buy my family Christmas gifts. I had drifted into the men's section to look for oversized sweaters when I came across a pair of men's jeans for $10.97.

"Gold mine!" I said to the petite man standing across the sale rack from me. I took the conversation inside my head and thought about how creatively cutting edge I'd be if I bought a pair of pants from the men's section instead of paying for "boyfriend" jeans from the women's section. Why spend $59.50 when you can spend $10.97, amirite?

I was too embarrassed to try the pants on and I had to get home to catch the aforementioned vegetables while they were still hot. I took the pants to the register, where five Gap employees rescanned the item number so they could find the same pair of magical sale pants. Anything for a sale, we all agreed.

When I tried the pants on in the comfort of my overheated bedroom last night, they wouldn't zip. My self-esteem balloon deflated in approximately two seconds. Yes, my mom's vegetable medley was more fibrous than usual, but these pants were way too small.

I went back to the Gap to return the pants this afternoon, but the salesperson (one of the five friends I made last night) explained that since they were final sale, I couldn't return them. I couldn't even get store credit. And I thought the Gap always gave store credit.

So, I'm stuck with a pair of men's pants. I'd save them for my future boyfriend (creepy), but I could never date someone who wore a smaller pant size than me.

Eff this. Whatta local min.

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