Forever in blue jeans
posted in Blogging, Fashion, Reader Input, School, Writing the Blog |So, let’s see:
Mamasan and Anne suggested Gloria Vanderbilt. Mamasan also suggested low- or mid-rise jeans, which Wendy, Anne, and Mrs. Figby seconded. There were a trio of mentions of “Not Your Daughter’s Blue Jeans” from Nordstrom’s (Noreen, Carol Anne, and Anne), and a couple of mentions of the “curvy” jeans at the Gap (LisaC and an email).
So I decided to try one of the NYDJ’s from Nordstrom’s, one of the curvy’s from the Gap, and one of Lands End’s custom jeans. Much to my horror, my measurements plopped me into a size 14, since you’re supposed to be ordering by the hip size mostly. Aaaaccccckkkkk! I halfway expect them to arrive and fit perfectly through the hips and–as usual–gape like crazy at the waist. Or maybe just not fit at all–either being too tight or being too loose. We shall see.
Why am I doing all this? Well, to be honest, I just hate trying on clothes. I can handle about an hour, and then I go batshit crazy, start foaming at the mouth, chewing the walls in the dressing room, feeling like ants are crawling all over my skin, and turning into Uber Bitch. What’s worse is when I do that and there’s no payoff: Nothing fits, I don’t like any of the jeans I’ve tried on, or there’s a great pair of jeans that just happens to be half an inch too tight, and none of that model in my size.
It’s just an exercise in frustration and aggravation to me. So I am seeking out the Holy Grail on the intertubes.
(Waving “Hi!” to Wendy and Anne, who delurked.)
As for readership, as one of my long-time readers noted in an email, my RSS feed shows the whole post, and I’d get more hits if I switched to a partial feed. Now is when we edge close to an ethical question: Do I provide convenience for my readers (whole-post feed) or do I provide a much-needed ego-boo (partial-post feed prompting click-throughs)? And the fact that my ego-boo would also provide views on my BlogHer ads is additional ethical fodder. I happen to know of some people who claim that as soon as a blogger they read switches to partial posting, they immediately drop their subscription as a matter of principle.
The whole readership question is pure narcissism anyway. It’s a revealing chink in my oh-so-bluff self-confident armor that the drop has made me stick out my lower lip and whimper, “Why is everyone going away?! Don’t they like me any more?!” At these times, I have to sit myself down and talk sternly:
“Self. Quit being a whiner. You know damned well why your hits have dropped, and it’s called ‘not updating your blogging software and pissing off Google’.”
::sniff:: “But I’m not suuuure! Maybe it’s not that! Maybe it’s because I’m getting boring in my old age! Maybe what I think is good writing, or fun stuff, just plain isn’t, and it’s all been ‘pity’ reading, and they’re just clicking through because they’re sorry for me, and I know they’re all talking behind my back and laughing at me!“
Segue into my Self curling up in a quivering heap in the corner of the bedroom and having serious flashbacks to the anguishing angst that is “being a nerd in high school”. I begin speaking even more sternly:
“Girl, get a grip! You know that Google blacklisted oodles of blogs who hadn’t upgraded, because Teh Hackers were siphoning off Google search results and gaming the system with invisible SEO terms. Your Google hits are beginning to pick up again, slowly but surely.”
Self just rocks and moans and nervously curls hair around a finger. This is difficult, because I have short hair, but Self does it somehow. This is also a flashback to high school, when I had hair halfway down my back, but the hair beside my face was always filled with split ends and half of it was broken off around chin length because of the constant hair twisting.
BUT! There is always a “but”: I’ve read about three or four other bloggers whimpering about readership lately, and they seem like hawt, trendy, interesting gals to me, so maybe it’s all a function of summertime.
At which, Self pops open a suspicious eye, peers at me, and decides that possibly–just possibly–I might be right and Self can come out of the semi-catatonic state and focus on more important things, like the fact that Crayola 24-pack crayons were a smokin’ 49 cents each at the local store, along with other good deals, so the back-to-school shopping was not as frenzy-making as it could have been…
