I am not shaped like a pear or a banana or a dumptruck or a fiberglass reproduction of the Venus F-ing De Milo. I am not shaped like a stereotypical supermodel, though I'm just as tall and most likely have a better personality because I am funny and smart and I read books. Take average supermodel size and add 10. That's me. I am also nearly but not six feet tall, unless I am wearing my womper-stomper Mary Janes with the insanely thick soles. I have a bit of a belly and a flat butt. I cannot find a pair of jeans that fit me. I want jeans. I am willing to pay up to $80 for a pair that fit me well.

TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS: THE DRESSING ROOM

Dressing rooms are always filled with germy little kids running around. I personally do not want children because I am not a participant in an agrarian economy. I think children belong on farms, working for the good of the family, not in front of TVs and ill-written textbooks. I do not enjoy encountering children in public spaces where I am expected to remove my pants. I also loathe shopping. Though I can well afford a pair of jeans, the actual journey of finding them is unpleasant to me. I am miserable. I want jeans.

OLD NAVY. My current pair of jeans hails from ON. They are boot cut and from the crotch down, they look pretty sassy. The only problem with them is that I stupidly purchased Regulars instead of Longs, meaning that when I sit, the general public is treated to a tasty view of my ankles. I like boot cut and am in pursuit of a similar pair to the ones I am wearing right now, only with a long inseam.

Another problem with my current pair of jeans is that they are low-waisted, meaning us girls with a bit of tummy pudge have to contend with pants that accentuate such pudge. Old Navy is always doing me wrong one way or another yet I keep going there. I cannot wear most of their shirts because they dip low and I came into this world with a deformed chest (pectus excavatum). I don't want people to see it. I hate you, Old Navy.

LANDS END. I like friendly folks from Wisconsin. I also like ordering clothing from a friendly Wisconsin operator over the phone. Lands End trumpets that they sell "jeans that fit for real women's bodies." I'm a real woman, and I want jeans that fit! So I ordered a pair of Classic Cut jeans, expecting that the ideal jeans-attaining situation (delivered to my door by a Boy in Brown) would work out perfectly for me. Yesterday, my Classic Cut jeans arrived ($43 including shipping). And they do fit. And are flattering in a way. But the waistband goes up past my natural waist. High pants are not the height of fashion for those of us who are under the age of 50. And there was too much bulky fabric in the crotch area. But in every other way they fit. Only they failed to make me happy. They are not flattering, and they are going to be sent back to Wisconsin next week.

LEVI'S AT SEARS. Sears. An All-American store that sells large appliances. I tried on some Levi's there, and they looked alright, but apparently they don't get too many tall girls because they just didn't have any tall inseam jeans for me and my heighty sisters. I wandered over to the men's department, but I couldn't bring myself to try on stupid boxy men's jeans, because I am a girl, damnit, and I want to wear girl jeans.