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Breaking in is hard to do | Francesca Serritella

The only thing harder than getting into non-stretch jeans is getting out of wet ones.

Stretchy denim is out. But all-cotton jeans are hard to break in.
Stretchy denim is out. But all-cotton jeans are hard to break in.Read morePremyuda Yospim / Getty Images/iStockphoto

I was told I’d have to break in my new jeans. I didn’t know they’d put up such a fight.

Super-skinny, ultra-stretchy denim is out, and old-school, rigid denim is in. All the brands are showing these vintage, ’90s-supermodel jeans, and I’m into it. I’d heard the denim could be tough at first, but I liked the idea of fashion that conformed to my body instead of the other way around. So I bought a pair of Levi’s 100 percent cotton, high-rise jeans in what they call their “Wedgie Icon” fit.

I can’t say they didn’t warn me.

The saleswoman convinced me to get my normal size, and she was right, they fit me perfectly, under certain circumstances:

First thing in the morning, before I’ve had so much as a sip of water, assuming it’s not the week before or after my period, and primarily when I’m standing up rather than sitting down or using the stairs.

Basically a perfect fit.

But if you size up in this kind of denim, the look goes from Cindy Crawford’s Pepsi commercial to SNL’s “Mom Jeans” sketch.

I have room in the waist and thighs, but they are so tight through the hips they flatten my butt.

I’m going for the perky, peach emoji look; right now, I’m getting more of a smashed cupcake.

And when I sit down, they split me in two.

The inseam owes me child support.

If Barbie wore jeans like this, in an hour, she would be anatomically correct.

“They’ll break in as you wear them,” the saleswoman assured me.

I didn’t realize how unforgiving they were until I made the mistake of wearing them for the first extended time on a date.

Side note: Why do we call uncomfortable fabrics “unforgiving?” I shouldn’t need to beg forgiveness from my jeans. They say women give away their power, but I draw the line at natural fiber.

Back to my first date with my new jeans. On the plus side, my tummy chub had nowhere to go but up; these jeans pushed my gut so far up my ribs they gave me better cleavage.

A downside was when he put his arm around my waist while we were sitting side by side, and the thought of him caressing my muffin top made me want to die.

Or maybe it was the lack of oxygen.

From then on, I confined the breaking-in process to wearing them around the house, where I could undo the top button when needed.

I’d “sit” on the couch without really folding my body, more leaning against my furniture or sliding down like a mannequin after a closeout sale.

Wherever my body needed to bend, the cotton twisted into my flesh like the joints of a balloon animal.

When I took them off, they left red track marks across my hips and stomach like rope burn.

This isn’t clothing, it’s kink.

I looked online for how to break jeans in quicker. I saw a strange but recurring tip: Take a bath wearing the jeans.

It said if you submerge yourself and the jeans in warm water for at least 20 minutes, the cotton will mold to your shape, stretching where you need it to, and shrink-wrapping everywhere else.

I drew the bath, but I hesitated to step in. It felt wrong to be getting into the tub with clothes on.

Then I settled in, and it was kind of cozy, like the comfort of a warm bath and a blanket combined. Air bubbles farted out from the hem.

The website said to let the jeans air-dry on your body, which seemed impractical. But I didn’t want to have gone to the trouble for nothing, so I stood in my bathroom, blow-drying my butt cheeks.

Normal girl stuff.

I’d stop intermittently to stretch the cotton with deep lunges, squats, various Spider-Man poses, and slow-motion twerking.

My stripper name is Soggy Bottom.

The only thing harder than getting into non-stretch jeans is getting out of wet ones.

Snakes have molted with less effort.

I emerged, eventually, and laid them flat to dry overnight.

And it worked!

A little.

I think?

It could be the cognitive dissonance, but I think my butt looks better, which is all that matters, and I can sit more comfortably. In fact, I’m wearing them right now.

With the top button undone.

Look for Lisa and Francesca’s humor collection, “I See Life Through Rosé-Colored Glasses,” and Lisa’s number-one best-selling thriller, “After Anna,” and her Rosato & DiNunzio novel, “Feared,” in stores now. Also, look for Lisa’s new novel, “Someone Knows,” coming April 9. Francesca@francescaserritella.com.