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In which my dad learns about purses and jeans sizes.

  • My dad:

    Your sister's crazy. Who'd want a $200 purse?

  • Me:

    She does.

  • My dad:

    What is it with ladies purses, anyway?

  • Me:

    (glancing at my purse) What do you mean?

  • My dad:

    How did that start--I mean, why do women use them? Doesn't it get tiring carrying a bag around all the time?

  • Me:

    (stands up and turns around) See those pockets?

  • My dad:

    ... Yes?

  • Me:

    What can I fit in them?

  • My dad:

    What?

  • Me:

    How many things do you think I could fit in my pockets? Honestly. How many things?

  • My dad:

    Doesn't look like you could fit much.

  • Me:

    A pack of Orbit, some folded bills, and that's about it. That's why we use purses--because we can't carry our shit in our pockets like you do.

  • My dad:

    But I can fit my wallet, my keys, and my cigarettes in my pockets!

  • Me:

    And your jeans also fit the way they should.

  • My dad:

    I'm almost afraid to ask, but what do you mean?

  • Me:

    Your jeans are sized by, what, your inseam and waist, right?

  • My dad:

    ... Aren't yours?

  • Me:

    I'm a size 3.

  • My dad:

    3 what?

  • Me:

    No, just a 3. A size 3.

  • My dad:

    What does that mean?

  • Me:

    I actually have no idea. I'm a size 3 in these jeans. In some other jeans, I'm a 5. I'm a 7 in my favorite pair of shorts.

  • My dad:

    Wait, it's not the same?

  • Me:

    Nope. A size 3 in one brand's jeans is completely different from a size 3 in another brand.

  • My dad:

    That's fucking stupid! How do you shop for them?!

  • Me:

    With great difficulty. This is why when you ask me what I did during the week and despite the fact I know you won't care I sometimes tell you I found a pair of jeans. Because finding a pair of jeans that fit and fit well is like finding the Holy Grail with your name encrusted in diamonds on it

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