Seven is a great number

If you are uncomfortable with talk about butts and occasionally bras, you might want to avoid this post. Consider yourself warned.

One thing I'm kind-of embarrassed to admit is that I love brand-name designers and labels. I know it's ridiculous and frivolous and wasteful. I know it doesn't make me a better person if my purse is from Coach instead of Kmart. Does that stop the desire for all things Kate Spade? Not even.

See, the problem is that I'm not what you would call rich. Dan isn't a sugar daddy. He doesn't have some secret treasure safe in a Swiss bank account or buried by the tree in the backyard (though if you ask him, he'd tell you that his treasure is currently located in his parents' garage - aka his precious lawn mower). And I certainly didn't bring wealth to our marriage; far from it actually - I brought thousands and thousands of dollars of student loan debt (and forget what they say, debt is debt. I don't believe there's such thing as "good" debt anymore - not in this economy. And if you still think student loan debt is good, you are welcome to mine.).

So I have, out of sheer necessity, morphed into a bargain label shopper. The good thing about me is that I don't give a rip about if something is this season or last. (Another good thing about me is that I'm amazingly self-aware when it comes to my good qualities.) I go crazy for end-of-season clearance sales and discount stores.

Don't confuse me with another breed of discount label whore. When I say I will only buy something if it's a good deal, I mean I will only buy something if it's a good deal for a normal person. Not like "Oh that bag used to be $1000 and now it's only $400!" Yeah, I shudder to think about what my husband would do if I a) brought home a $400 bag and b) used that logic on him. If I said, "But Daniel, I saved $600!" he would say, "You should have not bought the bag and saved $400. Now go return it." (That's the nice version of the fight conversation.)

Plus, it's simply not very gratifying to ever pay over $50 for any clothing or accessory item. Or any item, for that matter. Ever. And $50 is like the cathedral ceiling of ceilings. If I'm being honest, I will rarely spend over $25 for anything. Which is why I currently own one bra that fits me. Why would I go out and spend $40 on something that no one ever sees? I'll just repeatedly wash the one I have, thank you.

When we went out to buy our obscenely large flat panel tv before we were married, I asked the guy what the best he could do was, and when he said $1500, I was like, "Howsabout we make it $45 and call it a day?" When we signed the closing papers on our house, I literally had to refrain from looking at the actual amount we were paying. And even now, when I hear how much we owe on our house, I have panic attacks and have to breathe into a paper bag.

The point is, I'm kind-of cheap. I'm not a tightwad, because I always end up spending far too much money on clothes and things I don't need, but at least I got a darn good deal on them!

So one thing I've always, always wanted is a pair of 7 for all Mankind jeans (or Sevens, to the cool kids). I don't know why I've coveted them so much. Maybe it's because every time I see a girl wearing them, her legs and butt look amazing. And my goal since have Lucas has been to become a MILTLA (Mom I Like To Look At), hence the WW and C25K. So Sevens (yeah, I'm a cool kid) would be extremely helpful at this juncture in my body crisis. But because of the fact that Sevens are in the $150-$200 range, it's always just been a dream.

Or so I thought. Enter ebay, my current drug of choice. I was "just browsing" when I came across an auction for a pair of NWT (new with tags for the ebay newbies - if there are any newbies left, and if there are, there really shouldn't be. ebay is just that awesome.) Sevens, complete with a certain element of stretch to them (score). I bid $14.99 on them, thinking the whole time that I wouldn't get them and that they'd end up being bid way past my comfort level. (Note from the author [and also note to self]: This is dangerous. Don't ever bid on something you don't really want because ebay karma says you will get it. If you aren't sure if you want something, or you're certain you will be out-bid, that's what "Watch this item" is for.)

So I placed my bid and even forgot about it, so sure was I that I wouldn't win them. Would you believe I won them?? You probably would, because if I didn't win them then this story would be pointless and this would be the dumbest post I've ever written. So shocker, I won them! And they arrived to my house yesterday.

When I ripped them out of the package, I had a sudden flash of panic. Most designer jeans run way smaller than what you think they will, which is so depressing. So I raced upstairs to try them on and ta-daaaaa! They fit! It's an Easter miracle!

I checked out my all-important rear-view to find that my butt looked like my old butt! By this I mean my pre-baby butt: the butt that is not so flat, not so mushy and not so sad-looking. Not only that, but they had a nice big hem on the bottom (not sure what it's officially called, but I adore it), and a cute flared opening that looks fantastic over heels. Plus, they are slightly destructed which is so trendy right now (trust me, if I know anything, it's trendy. ::Snortgiggle::).

The best part? I can button them with room to spare, and they are a normal rise - not so low that I have a muffin top and can't sit down with my back facing anyone in polite company.

Bottom line: I'm in love. I don't even care if these are real Sevens. If they're not, someone did a freaking awesome job making fakes and I'd buy them again, even knowing that. I'm wearing them today and feel oh-so-chic with my maroon heels peeping out from under them. And that feeling is tough to come by lately. (I can do cute pretty easily, but chic is a difficult feat when I can't get out the door without a formula and/or spit-up stain somewhere on my person these days. I know Lucas means well. I'm sure he just wants to make sure I am thinking about him when we're apart). And the best part is, I keep going to the bathroom so I can check out my butt. And for once, I'm likin' what I see.