It’s nearing Valentine’s Day, so let me start this post by saying the title itself is simply, a play on old love. And bell bottoms remain something of a long lost lover for me. They’re like a person who became a deep part of my life in a short period of time, and who I let slide off my radar. Slowly, not picking up the phone to call. Or in this case, not getting to the bottom of the jean stack to wear.
There was a time when we were hot and heavy. My pre-baby days, my late teen years, were full of them. A style of jeans that elongated my smaller frame. Worn with a few inch heels and tightly-tucked shirts. A short hair cut did the trick, and oftentimes, paired with a large pair of sunnies. This love, was before the fro. In hindsight, I can see how I inched my way here.
I’m not sure what it was really, that made me reach for them again. Likely a photo I saved of someone else who looked great. Or another kind of someone shuffling through the cafe early in the morning. The kind of love that is short and intense, leading-up-to-something kind of love is like that. It shows up again much later at the oddest of times.
Needless to say, I’m happy my body has found them again. Or that they found me.
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