Help!!! My pants are trying to strangle me!

At some point, in the undetermined yet relatively recent past, fashion decided to cast off the shackles of yesteryear's ultra low rise prison and take a 180 degree turn in the opposite direction. Behold, the high rise jean.  Not content with merely paying penance for the thong-baring monstrosities of years past by bringing that waistband up to our natural waist, denim companies the world over have sought to outdo each other by extending that zipper all the way up to our second or third ribs.  

No one looks good in these.  When the rise is that high, it inevitably highlights everything below it in the front, which most of us would rather avoid.  And what woman really wants her rear end to look like it's several inches taller than it actually is?  Who could have possibly imagined we would ever need to talk about the height of our butts anyway?

But despite all of the questionable aesthetic effects of the high rise jean, there is one that is more insidious, more potentially damaging than all the others.  No matter how tolerable, or even comfortable, your jeans might be when you stand up, when you sit down that waistband is coming up a couple inches even farther.  Don't be surprised when it even starts encroaching on your bra's sovereign territory.  You can try to push it down, but that zipper will resist any folding, crushing, or shoving.  And if you've got a belt on, then you've got real trouble.  You may as well take them off completely if you're facing even a longish commute on the roads.

I feel better for getting all of this off my chest.  I wish I could say that I was going to get my high rise jeans off my chest too.  I really only have one pair.  Pushing them aside should be easy.  But they're just so super cute.  So I'll suck it up, and suck it in, and just spend as much time standing as possible.