Skinny jeans and Italian food - not a perfect match.

I don't mind the word skinny. And I don't mind the word jeans. But when those two words are put together 'skinny jeans' my palms start to sweat and my stomach involuntary pushes out in protest that it may be soon be unwillingly shoved into a pair of them.

See, here's the thing. I'm 30 and I love food. Especially tiramisu. Oh ok, and bread smeared with olive oil too. So whilst I don't consider myself overweight and I exercise every day, unfortunately I have thighs and hips with little flabby bits on the side that when pushed into a pair of small skinny jeans, they have nowhere to go but attractively spill out of the sides. When we eventually want to have children, I'm presuming those child bearing hips will come in handy, but for now, they are just a nuisance.

So, it was with a sense of dread that I went out looking for a new pair of jeans today. I went into the first store in Florence, a Levi's shop. The gorgeous Florentine lady that looks like she has never eaten a risotto in her life hands me a pair of...wait for it...skinny jeans. I tell her my dilemma and my request for some standard jeans that are not low cut. She replies with 'You have a great body and you MUST try these on'. Uneasily fooled after having been in sales for 5 years myself I sighed and headed for the change room as her size 0 body followed me. I take a deep breath and surprisingly they fit. But unfortunately for me, I am the kind of girl that likes to eat dinner when we go out to a restaurant (strange I know) and I know I would soon be uncomfortable.

Next stop, the Rinacentre, a department store in town. Again they recommend the Italian favourite, the skinny jeans. I tried not to think of the chocolate pastry I ate that morning as I tried on another pair.

My last fashion attempt was at Diesel. I was skeptical but I love going into that store because it is by far the friendliest store in Florence. And that is saying a lot as most of the girls who work in the stores here are far from friendly. And that is a very big understatement.

I have to also mention that I was wearing high heels and was dressed up. So what, you say? Well I have tried shopping in Florence in my sneakers and shorts and I have tried shopping in nice jeans and stiletto's (what can I say, I love shopping) and I can tell you now that you will not get any service wearing sneakers and most times they will not even help you if you ask. Plus, we all know that a pair of stilleto's makes your butt looks ten times better and you can worry about your bad back and blisters later on.

I decided to be honest with the Diesel guy that served me. And yes, foreign female readers, he looked like he stepped out of Men's Vogue, but after living in Florence for 9 months, you kind of get over them looking so good and you just want them to help you find something that fits.

I said to the Antonio Banderas in his prime look-alike 'I'm 30, I love tiramisu and am not prepared to stop eating it, can you help?' He laughed so hard and said 'I love you Australians, and I will help you'. And help he did. For the first time in my life, I couldn't choose between three pairs of jeans that all fitted me perfectly. Yes his exclaims of 'yes, that is beautiful on you' probably meant that he was just being a salesperson and yes he is an Italian male, but when I put on that perfect pair of jeans, I felt so happy and the only person I wanted to think they look beautiful is my husband. Now only a female can understand that perfect feeling of the right pair of jeans. And I'm hoping husband will be just as understanding when he sees the visa bill.