Holly got ready.
Ready for something she hasn't done in years.
Holly realized that she had only one pair of jeans that fit well. She had no choice but to go shopping for another pair.
Why has Holly not been jean shopping for years?
Maybe because last time she went shopping for jeans she entered the store as a confident woman and exited the store as a huddled mass yearning to be free of her obvious body disfigurements.
For you see, in non-jean-shopping-life Holly is OK with her body. She is not in love with her shape, but has accepted it and moves on...
Yet for some reason, in jean-shopping-life all that changes.
Holly's non-jean-shopping THIGHS are OK, but her jean-shopping THIGHS appear like over-stuffed, dimpled sausage.
Holly's non-jean-shopping WAIST is OK, but her jean-shopping WAIST creates plumber-effect.
In non-jean shopping-life Holly never met a tailor. In jean-shopping-life Holly has never met a pair of jeans that didn't require a skilled one.
Holly recruited a friend for moral support. Holly wasn't sure about the morality, but could really use the support.
Soon Holly was back in a dressing room with an ever-growing pile of ill-fitting jeans.
Just about the time Holly was about to slip into her pre-existing Post-Traumatic Jean Shopping Syndrome, the sales clerk asked her to try on one more pair.
Holly tried on the jeans.
Holly was puzzled.
Something was different.
The jeans fit.
*cue the angel choir*
Where did you find these jeans that fit so perfectly?
The men's department.
In jean-shopping-life Holly is a boy.
Holly got ready.
When I am not here.
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