I’m (not fuzzy) and blue, oh so not-fuzzy and blue. From butt to an ankle or two. Not fuzzy, but blue.
Note to self: believe it or not it is a bad choice to wear new, super-dark, old-schjool indigo denim bluejeans on a day when you might sweat a lot. Even when you pre-washed the fabric before you made the jeans. That true blue denim is strong in the Force of dye. Remember how it made your hands a greyish-blue shade when you were sewing together the constituent parts of the jeans? Did it dawn on you that it might turn other bits of you blue as you wore them? Did you ever stop to think what it might do to your underwear?
Yeah, one of my few cute pair of underpants, a pair of Hanes Her Way bikinis with a delicate china-blue paisley pattern have been subsumed in china-blue bluejean residue. You have to know these knickers had been paisley beforehand to recognise any such a pattern in them now. Woe!
The jeans themselves kick ass and I got the pattern for half price, and the fit is wonderful and flattering, though I had to customize the pattern to accomodate R. Crumb-style muscular legs (actually, take away the frothing-at-the-mouth aspect of this image, and you’re pretty much looking at me, today. Well, add a pair of Ben Franklin-style wire-rim glasses, exchange the orange cropped top for a waist-length powder-pink turtlenecked haltertop and put on black lumberjack boots instead of brown cowboy boots…but I digress.)
Anyway, I wanted a paor of real old-school bluejeans. They are a little below the waist; maybe an inch-and-a-half or two inches below the bellybutton and slim-fitting through the legs and actually look pretty good on me, if I may be allowed to brag up my ass for a moment. It is just that this heavy, dark denim is going to take some serious breaking in before the color looks really good and they are super comfortable. They fit well, so they are okay to wear, but you know how a well-broken-in pair of jeans is…where it feels like a symbiotic relationship between your jeans and your ass. Well, I am working on that stage yet. At the moment, dye rubs off the fabric with a vengeance, and the dense fabric feels a little crackly when I bend my knees.
Anyway, I may go off and take a supplementary bubble bath, since the shower I took when I got home didn’t really do the trick, and maybe I will bust out the loofah. Bring in the big guns, don’tcha know?
[…] The one I usually reference is the time I dyed my butt blue. […]