Let's go to the mall!

I hate shopping for clothes. Well, clothes for myself anyway. I LOVE shopping for my two daughters. There are so many choices, many of them budget friendly, and the girls are easy to fit. I, on the other hand, have a hell of a time. See, I am what you would call a "curvy girl". While retailers are slowly beginning to expand the choices for robust folks, I have a bit of a height disadvantage. Simply put, I am short like woah.
Unfortunately, most women's plus size clothes are designed for women who are six feet tall. The assumption being, if you're a "big girl", you must be big all over. Sadly, that is not the case. I, for example, barely graze five foot two in my bare feet.
"Just buy what you want and cut off the extra length" one might say, but alas, that doesn't always work. Nothing is properly proportioned for shorties like me. The arm holes are too big, the sleeves too long, the hips never land on my hips, instead they are always vacationing down south near my knees. The back pockets are usually end up in that zone where butt meets thigh... So finding clothes is a chore.
It had been three years since I bought jeans. Of the three pairs I own, one is simply unflattering and tends to sag due to some minor weight loss. As I am not a 14 year old boy, this is not an acceptable look for me. Pair number two were similarly huge, but fairly comfortable. Usable, but not suitable to wear in public. This pair was sacrificed to the DIY gods and is now covered in paint, sports a burn from a heat gun, and a small rip in the ass where they got caught on a nail. Of course, on me, that rip is somewhere mid-thigh.  Finally, my favorite and most flattering pair, is simply wearing out.
The husband and I are planning a trip with our girls for Spring Break, and Mama needs jeans for the trip. We are headed north, in March, and temperatures promise to be chilly. So husband sent me to the mall to buy jeans.
With much trepidation, I entered Big Name Plus Size Retail Shop, armed with a credit card and on a mission. Now, don't get me wrong, I buy new clothes pretty regularly, but 90% of the time it's either new shirts, or dresses. Sometimes I will go nutty and buy a skirt, but I had not even tried on jeans or pants (other than those of the  "yoga" or "lounge"  variety) in three years. So, I wandered around the store, faced with far too many choices. A girl with a name tag approached, cautiously, as one would a deer or other frightened woodland creature. I explained my situation, she did a quick assessment of my figure, and sent me into a fitting room with an armload of jeans to try on.
I ended up spending two hours in that store, and tried on no fewer than 17 pairs of jeans. Among the choices were the floral print "jeggings" that were unanimously voted "Most Likely to Resemble Pajama Pants", the distressed jeans featuring "Knee Wear on Your Shins", and the pastel floral skinny jeans with a double shot of  "AW, HELL NO!"
With help from the Most Patient Retail Employee EVER, and texted pictures to my dear Megan, I was able to walk out with 2 pairs of jeans that fit adequately. They're still about 5 inches to long and the back pockets linger somewhere south of the border, but they will do for now.
There was some discussion of buying bras, but after being measured and having terms like "Special Order" thrown around, I decided I had been traumatized enough. I still need to buy a bathing suit for the trip, but that is an ordeal for another day. Right now I'm thinking something retro...