I picked up a pair of capri-length jeans yesterday in a 50% off sale (cos, you know, summer’s over…even if it is still 80-something degrees).
As I put them on this morning, I pulled them up and they kept going, past my bum, past my hips and, hallelujah, up to my actual waist.
Today, for the first time in five years no-one is going to see my underwear — unless I want them to! (Why did the low-rise trend have to hit right when I had children and was destined to spend a fair portion of every day crouching?)
My belt is cinched in as far as it’s ever been, and I didn’t even have to diet.
I actually feel comfortable.
I’d like to take a moment to salute whichever starlet sparked the rise in, well, rise.