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Opinion: You Can Pry My Skinny Jeans Off of My Cold Dead Legs

There is probably no inalienable right greater than freedom of expression, and what better way to tell the world that you saw Hawthorne Heights at a tiny club in 2002 than you rocking a pair of Levi 510s? I’m talking about skinny jeans my friends, the cornerstone of any sensible Millennial wardrobe. But as the cruel march of time saunters on they’ve grown out of style, even derided as “cheugy.” And that’s led to a sad decline in both availability and quality.

Which is why I am here to tell all the generations that have come before and after me one thing: you can pry my skinny jeans off my cold dead legs.

Seriously, come and fucking take them. Though you probably can’t since they’re notoriously difficult to peel off my body, especially if I just walked up a flight of stairs and got a little sweaty. Everyone treats me like a lunatic for hoarding so many pairs, but it’s only a matter of time before we have a Gen Z president who comes to your door to take away your calf clingers.

It’s been said that you either die an emo kid or live long enough to see yourself wear cargo pants with an elastic waistband. When I kick the bucket you can stick me in the casket upside down so everyone can see that I’m taking this shit to the grave, literally. Sugar, if I’m going down, the pants are going with me.

I’m so passionate about it because whatever benevolent creator decided to check off the “gangly chicken legs and no ass” box when assembling my body and it’s the only type of pants that fit me. Or it could be that one time in high school when prom queen Stacy Williams complimented my pants out of the blue and I’ve been clinging to that moment ever since. It’s 50/50.

Look, I know fashion is cyclical, which is why we’re seeing the resurgence in shit everyone was wearing in the ‘90s (I’m looking at you, JNCO). But skinny jeans are more practical than the olds and youngs want to give them credit for. The bottoms of your jeans can’t get frayed or soaking wet from puddles if they’re attached to your ankles!

Did I want to make my entire identity about a singular piece of clothing? No, but if I don’t stand up for our right to wear pants that probably hinder lower body blood circulation, the terrorists win.