ARGH!

In what was a strong contender for Jade's Most Humiliating Moment of 2012, I split the seams on my jeans this morning.

You know when you've just washed them, and the denim is all stiff and unyielding, and you have to do that weird dance to get into them that looks like you're one of the failed auditions from So You Think You Can Dance? – it's kind of like hop hop hop, plié, plié, plié, do the twist a little, kick your feet out country-style, and then hop a bit more? It's like the Special K ad, only you don't have abs of steel and you're a lot less graceful.

It looks nothing like this.

Well, somewhere around the third grand plié I think, the seams started to come apart a little. It's not hugely noticeable but I know.

I'm trying to convince myself that my jeans shrank either in the wash or while I was drying them hurriedly this morning with my hair dryer, but the sad truth may be that I've actually just become gargantuan over the past few weeks, and there's only so much give you can ask of a pair of Levi's.

The bleakest part is, I now have to go hunting for another perfect pair, which is demoralising both because the search is so very long and arduous, and because I have about 50c to my name.