Oh, the bittersweet betrayal! My beloved Japanese denim, those rigid, noble warriors of fashion, have declared mutiny—clamping down with such relentless loyalty that they seem determined to squeeze the life (and digestion) right out of me. Alas, my heart aches as much as my stomach does.
Forced into exile by my own wardrobe, I'm left to seek refuge among the gentler comforts: slacks that embrace rather than constrict, tailored pants whose grace masks mercy, suspenders that valiantly shoulder the burden my denim abandoned, and overalls, charmingly indifferent to waistline woes.
But above all, dread looms large in the sinister tightening of belts—the villainous enforcer of denim’s unyielding law. For now, liberation lies in looser fabrics, less judgmental silhouettes, and perhaps, the quiet revenge of comfort over fashion's tyranny.