When I was a teenager, I couldn't find cute jeans in my size and so my mom — not a crafty lady, mind you — attempted to make me some. After many nights of sobbing and screaming, we emerged with one pair of "fitted boot cuts" that were more like "Andre the Giant's larger cousin's bell bottoms." In the end, we finally just went to an actual seamstress. Crazy, right? I couldn't find jeans to wrap around my luscious size 18 thighs and so I had to pay $100 to get them hand sewn. I was just so embarrassed of my bigger body that I'd try anything to fit in — even if it meant spending about 15 days and tons of money to get one fucking pair of American blue jeans. Thankfully, times have changed, and there's definitely more selection than there ever was before. It's not perfect, but it's better than my mom, an old Singer, and ten boxes of double-ply Kleenex.