I have stacks and stacks of jeans. The fact that I wear the same pair day after day (until they are so stretched out I’m convinced I have a tapeworm and have lost fifteen pounds overnight and might die but then I wash them and they fit again) is mostly irrelevant. I think the bigger issue here is WHY? 

Why do I buy jeans like these when clearly I don’t need them? Why do I buy jeans that aren’t just you-must-wear-heels-with-them long but here’s-an-extra-foot-of-material-in-case-you-want-to-wear-stilts-today long? (And seriously, check out the claw toe thing going on in that photo. I’m telling you, someone should hire my feet for a THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU REFUSE TO COMMUTE IN SNEAKERS ad campaign. Advertisers, call me!)

I could cut them (but then something like this would probably happen), or have my amazing seamstress hem them (see: throw good money after bad in your idiom dictionary) or cuff them (like I do to the tapeworm-pair that’s literally falling off of me as I type). Or I could simply rehome them with the confidence that someday, some way, they will make a six-foot-eight woman really, really happy.