Yesterday I went to JCP. That is what the cool people would call JCPenny, if they knew what it was. I’m not cool. Having three kids, I am reminded everyday of how uncool I am now; how uncool I always have been. 

I didn’t mean to go there. We were at the Mall of Georgia. The stepdaughter was hungry for the Delia experience. She’d been living vicariously through their catalog for years. Her school’s homecoming is just around the corner. It was time she fully immersed herself in the Delia-verse.

Stepson wanted things for his Wii. The Uma wanted only to be carried. That, and a pretzel. And I needed jeans. Real jeans.

What are real jeans? I don’t know. I just knew that I didn’t have a pair. I have some True Religions that I bought at a thrift shop. Those jeans earned me some cool points. The stepdaughter calls them “Trues”. But I hate them. They sag and the cuffs are cut off and sometimes I step on the fringes. They make me feel like driving a van to Woodstock and stick it to the man. 

I considered getting another pair. A pair just for me, that fits right and doesn’t have strings where the cuffs should be. Then I looked them up. The cheapest ones were still too expensive. Anyway, what do I need with cool jeans? I’m a dad.

Old navy? Their jeans weren’t real enough. They are good for a while, then the knees fray and the crotch rips. Then they disintegrate.

I went to Gap, but their jeans are uncool even by dad standards. They are the 1998 Toyota Camry of jeans. Great for parent teacher conferences but too uptight for my life of farmer’s markets and Kung Fu in the park. 

J. Crew? I don’t play polo. Hollister? Really?!

So while the rest of the family went to Wet Seal, I went to JCP. 

It was like coming home to Media Pa., circa 1983. There was hundreds of pairs of Lees. Remember them? I do. I remember reinforced knees that were stronger than Kevlar. Pass. 

Pass on the Dockers; khakis are to dads as  minivans are to moms. Pass on the Arizonas. If there is a state cool enough to have its name on a clothing line, Arizona isn’t it. Then there was the Levi’s. Still cool, right? 

The display tired too hard. I had to check twice to make sure I wasn’t in the young adult section. It looked like it was designed by a 17 year old. But they were Levi’s. Held together by rivets. If they are good enough for prospectors, they are good enough for me.

I tried them on, holding the dressing room closed with my free hand, because the lock didn’t work. The sizes ran small. In the past this has driven me crazy, but I’m a father now. Pride is not an option. 

I picked a pair of 38’s and walked to the counter. When the clerk swiped them, the words “big sir” flashed across the screen.

Big sir. It’s not just a mountain range. It’s also what you call guys who buy size 38 Levi’s from JCP. Polite, with just a dollop of insolence. I looked on the tag. No mention of big sir. Had I accidentally gone to the Big and Tall section? Then why did they fit? I’m big, but by no means am I big sir. 

By the way, “big sir” is the name of the color that I bought. It’s also now a running joke in our house and one possible name for my upcoming fitness blog. I know you don’t need another fitness blog, but those jeans that I bought at JCP and more importantly my reaction to them were a free association exercise. And I failed it.

Maybe I’ll go back to JCP, but I don’t want to be the guy digging way down at the bottom of the stacks where the big jeans are. For that matter, I am tired of being relegated to the far right of the stacks. You know how it goes… Skinny, slim, regular, straight, boot cut and the relaxed. That’s me. In JCP at the far end of the display where the jeans are – sigh – relaxed. 

Not even the president can make dad jeans look good

I’m used to being uncool but I’m not ready for dad jeans. So I’m going to go at this the same way I do everything else. I’m going to write about it. 

What do I have to offer? Not muscles or years of experience in the science of conditioning. What I have is a sense of humor and years of experience at failure. I’ve failed at kettlebells, bouldering and judo. I did Bikram yoga, and then I stopped. I rollerbladed once. Got pretty decent at moving forward without falling. Then I stopped.

My loss is your gain because as you can see, I’ll try anything. I’ll fail at 99 percent of it, but something will stick. Something is going to bust me out of the dad jean section of JCP – the dad jean superstore. Stay tuned. The fitness blog for big sirs is on its way.