I’d actually sworn I’d never let him wear them. The way they fit ever-so-tightly around every single curve and crevice of the lower body, from the waist down to the feet, like wearing nothing more than little tights, or even worse, leaving almost nothing at all to the imagination. Those skinny jeans… not manly at all!
How can guys wear those things? They look like girl jeans! That’s just gross.
That’s what I always used to say, not that I really thought anything less of the guys inside of them – well not all of the time at least, and even then it was more of a chuckle of disbelief than anything else (no offense intended) – but they did strike me as an odd fashion trend for men from the beginning. For boys not so much because, well, just think of all the crazy things we grew up wearing over the years. But to come home from work one day and find Edgar in them was really not something I was prepared for.
Edgar: Look, do you like my new jeans?
Me: Are those skinny jeans!?
Edgar: Yeah, they’re cool huh?
Me: Where did you get those from!?
Edgar: Grandma gave them to me! Aren’t they cool!?
I looked confused, probably a little agitated too, my mouth wide open, just staring at him for a second, before all I could muster as a response was an uh-huh. Immediately after, my brain started to plot just how exactly I was going to get rid of those hideous jeans. Only, it’s been weeks now, and I can’t bring myself to throw those skinny pants away… or tear them into shreds with my knife as I had planned.
The thing is whenever he’s strutting around, so confident and excited in his little jeans, which he likes to wear with converse shoes and a graphic tee, I can’t help but remember what it felt like for me to sag my pants way down below my waist and walk around all “cool” because I thought I was a little pachuco. Hard to imagine, I know… but it was just a phase. My parents couldn’t stand it and if they caught me with my pants all the way down there they’d always make it a point to yell at me pick up your pants! I haven’t started the yelling, but I’m hoping this is a phase too!
This is the second post in the Raising A Bilingual Kid series. To read the original post in the series, just click on the link (Raising A Bilingual Kid: Ballet Folklórico)