Vanity Sizing in a Post October World

In keeping with the spirit of All Hallows Eve, I went jean shopping this week. For those of you who don't see the connection, jean shopping is the scariest retail experience a woman can have.
It is so scary I haven't done it for over a decade, preferring instead to buy my jeans pre-loved at Frenchies. Lately my favourite pair of Frenchies jeans are starting to get a little frayed in some important areas, and in anticipation of total denim failure I thought I should find some replacements.
We seek them here,
We seek them there,
At Frenchies, we seek them everywhere...
Alas, Frenchies in St John's does not live up to its reputation, so it was with much trepidation I made the trip to Losers. News Flash! I can report that vanity sizing, until this moment only a rumour hotly denied by all the fashion houses, does indeed exist.
My proof for this is simple: The last time I went jean shopping...in the year 3 (BPC) - that's before Peter's cooking - I was a perfect 7/8. Fast forward to present day, or 13 (APC) and I am still a perfect 7/8.
It's a miracle! I gained an average of 2 pounds a year for 16 years but my jeans size didn't change. To celebrate I held communion with all the left over Hallow e'en chips!
I was so happy with my new purchase, I began to wear them immediately. I wore them at various times all week.
It is a peculiar quirk of my sweetie, (and perhaps most men) that he does not understand the wardrobe must fit the activity. He complains that I change my clothes at least 6 times a days, and to that I reply "Of course I do."
First thing you put on schlepping around the house clothes. Then you have to walk the dog, so you put on street clothes. Then perhaps it is time for yoga, so you put on yoga pants (yes, I do own a pair) Then it is off to run errands or buy groceries so back come the street clothes, and not necessarily the same ones as before. Then perhaps you go to the pottery studio, and that requires something different again...
On Friday my only necessary activity was a long dog walk and so I did actually wear the new jeans all day. Friday was a pre-post tropical storm day here. (Coincidentally, when did the 'tail end of a hurricane' become a post tropical storm? That's like calling November, Post October.) At any rate, on Friday we had interesting weather as an apparently nameless mass of precipitation was pushed ahead of the Noel leftovers. The winds were high, the temperature spiked up to 16 degrees from 3 overnight, and the air was muggy while the dog and I made a brisk 90 minutes loop around Georgetown. It poured rain in the afternoon while I went out to the bakery. Maybe it was the muggy dog walk, maybe it was the rain, maybe it was simply that I had them on for 15 hours non stop. When I finally removed my jeans at bedtime my legs were blue. A perfect tan line from the my socks up to my underwear.
The pre bed shower reminded me of those bright pink pills dental hygienists used to give out to show how to better brush your teeth. I had to really scrub to get the dye off my legs, and I can report that you all should be paying closer attention to behind your knees.