It is in my genetic code to be tall. My mom is 5'9'' and my Dad is 6'5''. I am 5'11''. That has always been a problem in the clothing department. When I find a pair of jeans that fit and are long enough, I treat them with the utmost respect. I have maintained a pair of jeans that I've had since high school and recently found an unpatchable hole in the back pocket (and not the so-called fashionable kind of hole). Another pair of oldies-but-goodies, would have lasted longer, but I tripped and ripped the knee clean out of the right leg. Every other pair I own are either too big, too short, or so small that I suddenly have the "muffin-top" phenomenon going on. It was my goal today to find a pair of jeans. No- the pair of jeans. It is no exaggeration when I say that I tried on 23 pairs of jeans. Yes, I counted...mostly to prove a point to my husband. You're probably thinking I'm just overly critical of myself, and that's probably a little true, but I really do have the WORST time finding pants that look acceptable. I would rather shop for bathing suits than pants. But the last store I walked into, the Buckle, welcomed me with open arms. I was suddenly surrounded by walls dripping with extra long (36''inseam!) jeans. They had every color and style imaginable-and they all came in extra long. And if you haven't already guessed-I found the jeans. They do all the right things for me in all the right places. Angels sang. The only inappropriate thing about them is the price. I have always been secretly judgemental of people who spend exorbitant amounts of money on such worthless items-but today I learned, in a very literal sense, that the value of something is so completely relative. And I am repentant for the judgement I've passed in the past. If you're wondering, I didn't buy the jeans yet. I plan on making a date out of it on Friday. Maybe I'll even treat them to dinner and dancing.