Elastic Is My Friend

If you read my last post, you know I am SUFFERING, verily I say SUFFERING, from a foot injury.  This is my fourth such injury in the last three months.  Danny has decreed that I can no longer work out without supervision.

I don't think so.

(I have already been back on the treadmill.  True, it was at a slow pace but the treadmill nonetheless. Don't tell Danny.)

In fact, the last time he tried to officially "supervise" me was when we both worked at Burger Chef.  We both were just burger jockeys and then he got promoted to night manager.  I knew this arrangement would never work so I quit. 

Good-bye Burger Chef!  Nice to have worked for you!

But I digress.  Back to my original thought. Which, if you have lost track,  is how my excessive workout injuries are making me feel old.

On the "I Think I May Be Getting Older Front" (you know, due to the aforementioned excessive injuries), I did purchase my very first pair of elastic waist jeans. I know that this is what came leaping to your mind.

Oh, ye of little faith.  I may be a memaw but I have much more style than that.  Here I am rocking my pull-on jeans from Chico's.

I think I am trying to "smize" ala Tyra Banks.  It is the only explanation for my eyes.

Not bad for an old memaw.


Here's another shot.

I am attempting to look nonchalant.  Maybe not so successfully.

Nice flair. Nice fit.  Just plum nice jeans that are comfortable. None of that low rise, my belly is hanging out, what I am I going to do?  Love, love, love them.

Can I get an Amen for comfortable jeans that are also stylish?

And Danny...dear sweet Danny. I don't think he will ever supervise me.