SelfAbsorbed.ME : ‘It’s Your Life, We Just Write it Funnier’

“Your pants kind of give you a she-nis.”

“What? Shenis?” I looked at Will, mystified. Then I glanced down and noticed that the fly of my jeans had created a pretty significant bulge. We’d just sat down on the subway. “Ohhh. You mean my joner?”

He let out a perplexed snort. “What did you call it?”

“My joner–a jean boner. Hello. They happen to everyone all the time. It’s just the way jeans are made. You have one too.” I pointed at his crotch.

“I guess, but I’m a dude. It looks natural to have a convex shape in that area. Your shenis just looks especially pronounced–like, larger than average.”

“Uh–I guess these jeans are a bit slouchy and baggy–kind of prime qualities for convex jean shape. Call it a ‘joner.’ Something about the word ’shenis’ just sounds wrong.”

“But ‘joner’ sounds so right?”

“Whatever. I don’t know. Does it really look weird?”

I used to be really insecure about joners back in elementary and middle school, when I didn’t really feel right in my own skin, let alone clothing. Sporting strange looking pants protrusions was just one more horrible detail beyond my control. Thank God I wasn’t a guy.

However, at some point throughout that epic journey of adolescence, joners ceased to matter, in the same way that monthly cycles eventually felt slightly less like puttering around a circle of hell.

But suddenly the joner was back and bigger than ever.

“I guess it isn’t that weird,” he told me. “It’s just…I’ve never really noticed it before. And now I can’t stop looking at it.”

“Well, God,” I said, recrossing my legs in an attempt to diminish the joner. “Do you mind not staring at my crotch? It’s kind of weirding me out.”

“Your shenis is weirding me out. It’s like, popping out at me. How can I not look?”

“Why are you so against calling it a ‘joner’? It’s my bulge. Don’t I have the right to name it?”

“I don’t know why you’d want to name it. That’s just drawing attention to an embarrassing situation.”

“But it just happens naturally! I can’t help it!”

“Yeah, that’s also what guys say about real boners, but that doesn’t make it any less embarrassing when it happens.”

This point struck me as quite logical, thus furthering my insecurities. I was irritated.

“Suck my denim,” I told him. “I’m sick of this. You’re blowing things way out of proportion. Everyone gets joners: guys, girls, children, adults. And they don’t even look remotely like a real wiener. So whatever. ”

“You guys are both wrong,” said a female voice to Will’s right.

Will and I both snapped our heads in her direction. It’s not often that a stranger interjects during a subway conversation. The girl looked to be about our age, early twenties, dressed head to toe in a very business-y business-casual ‘fit.

“It’s called a jeanis,” she informed us, pointing a finger of chipping pink polish at my crotch.

Will and I looked at each other. “A jeeeanissss,” we said in slow unison. The perfection of the word created a moment of euphoria, a rare feat on an E train.

“That’s jeanius!” I exclaimed. “Get it? See what I did there?”

The girl, attempting to be polite, gave me a half-hearted, “Ha. A pun.”

“Shut up,” Will said. He paused before asking, “Want to join the jean 15 club?”

And that’s how I ended up with “JEANIS” written in Sharpie on my hand–a temporary tattoo that’s now three days old. So for the past few days, anyone who asks me about it has received an answer like, “Oh, Gee-ann-is? It’s this herbal tea that my friend told me to check out. It’s really hard to find.” Or “Yeah, Jean Is. It’s this really obscure music group that I just heard about–kind of indie jazz-infused electro-funk pop. I’ve been meaning to check it out.”

As for my own joner/shenis/jeanis, I quickly got over my Will-induced bout of insecurity. If I really wanted to win the battle of the bulge, I could always get myself a pair of jeggings (jean-leggings, one of this year’s trends being sold by Top Shop, among others). However, the risk of a very real jegging camel toe is a lot more mortifying to me than a very fake jean peen. My motto: To each his jone.

Photo Credit: styleguru.org, youwereneverlovelier.wordpress.com