Guess Jeans

I'm thinking of putting together a collection of short stories from my life, basically just so I have them written down. I was shopping the other day, and was reminded of an incident that took place was I was 12 or 13, and decided to start there. Here's the first installment:


When I was in middle school, all I wanted was a pair of Guess jeans. All of the cool kids had them, and even some of the not-so-cool kids. I begged my mom nearly every day. The only answer I got was, "We can't afford them."

My mom finally reached her breaking point one day while we were doing our annual fall school shopping. I think it was right before the start of 7th grade. We were at Sears, buying sensible clothing that she could afford, when I started in on the Guess jeans routine. Right in the middle of the store, she grabbed me by the arm, led me to Bergner's (the expensive store), and made me pick out a pair of Guess jeans. I didn't know what was going on, but I picked out my jeans and mom paid for them. I don't remember how much they cost, but I'm sure it was more than mom was planning on spending at Sears. After that, we went back to Sears to continue our shopping. Mom picked out some clothes for my brother and sister, and went to check out. I was confused. What about me? I asked mom when we were going to go buy the rest of my clothes for the year. She just looked at me, and then she said, "I could have bought you three pairs of jeans here for what I paid for the one pair that you so desperately needed. So this year, instead of having three pairs of jeans to wear to school, you'll have one. But I'm sure that's fine with you since they are the coolest pants around, right?" Suddenly my jeans weren't so cool.

The reality of having one nice pair of pants to wear to school finally set in around the second week of school, when kids were starting to notice that I kept wearing the same pants every day. I finally caved, and began wearing some of my too-short jeans from the previous year. My mom never said anything to me about it, but I'm sure inside she was shaking her head and saying, "I told you so."

I went to a big, suburban middle school in the best part of the city. We lived in a duplex right in the heart of the good part of town. In our backyard, literally, was the Saxer Mansion. I remember longingly looking out the window and wishing I lived there. Our house wasn't bad, but it wasnt ours. The duplex was the only rental unit on the block. Many of the kids I was so envious of lived just a block away, where the new subdivisions began. They would often ride their bikes past our house and I would wish that I could follow them home. It was as if I was always on the brink of something good, but couldn't quite reach it.