Thursday, August 17, 2006
crisis of the pants
What a stupid blog title. Oh well. I don't really have much time to write something long, let alone humorous or even coherent. But I have noticed today that my smallest pair of pants are getting a liiiitle loose. DAMN IT TO PUS-SPEWING HELL.
I know, I know, some of you may want to beat me with your own foot for even complaining about such an event and maybe I deserve it. But you see, dear reader, I am now completely out of pants. If you suddenly ran out of a particular article of clothing, I wouldn't hate you. (Especially if you ran out of those mother-trucking hideous spandex leggings that are somehow back in style. I would send you a thank you card)
A few months ago, as the wedding approached, I changed jobs and started working OUT of the house for the first time in two years. All the sudden, I was losing weight. Maybe it was the pre-wedding stress. Or the friendly tapeworm that moved into my lower intestine. Or the fact that I was now about 30 miles away from my fridge most of the day. I really don't know. I'm not an expert on weight loss or Richard Simmons. (Although on certain days I bear him an uncanny resemblance).
So anyway, week after week, my pants would get bigger. And I would have to go out and buy another pair of pants. And then a week later, THOSE pants would get too big. I felt like my ass was playing a cruel practical joke on me. We used to have such a good relationship and then all of the sudden it was shrinking rapidly without consulting me first.
Anyway, after the wedding my weight seemed to level off and the pants I am wearing today were actually a little on the snug size. And I clearly remember feeling good about that..."Surely these pants won't get big on me, it's impossible!" But, no. My ass apparently has different ideas.
So, I don't have any room in my budget to buy MORE pants and I'm a little iffy on taking any of my existing pants to a tailor to get taken in. Last time I did that, my fancy expensive Gap dress pants came back as a pair of shredded gauchos.
So I guess the only solution is to .... steal pants. I am left with no other option. If any of you know any sweet spots to score some pants, let me know. Or better yet, SEND me your pants. And send boxes. And peanut butter cookies. Wait! Send a BOX full of cookies, wrapped in your pants. Perfect.
I know, I know, some of you may want to beat me with your own foot for even complaining about such an event and maybe I deserve it. But you see, dear reader, I am now completely out of pants. If you suddenly ran out of a particular article of clothing, I wouldn't hate you. (Especially if you ran out of those mother-trucking hideous spandex leggings that are somehow back in style. I would send you a thank you card)
A few months ago, as the wedding approached, I changed jobs and started working OUT of the house for the first time in two years. All the sudden, I was losing weight. Maybe it was the pre-wedding stress. Or the friendly tapeworm that moved into my lower intestine. Or the fact that I was now about 30 miles away from my fridge most of the day. I really don't know. I'm not an expert on weight loss or Richard Simmons. (Although on certain days I bear him an uncanny resemblance).
So anyway, week after week, my pants would get bigger. And I would have to go out and buy another pair of pants. And then a week later, THOSE pants would get too big. I felt like my ass was playing a cruel practical joke on me. We used to have such a good relationship and then all of the sudden it was shrinking rapidly without consulting me first.
Anyway, after the wedding my weight seemed to level off and the pants I am wearing today were actually a little on the snug size. And I clearly remember feeling good about that..."Surely these pants won't get big on me, it's impossible!" But, no. My ass apparently has different ideas.
So, I don't have any room in my budget to buy MORE pants and I'm a little iffy on taking any of my existing pants to a tailor to get taken in. Last time I did that, my fancy expensive Gap dress pants came back as a pair of shredded gauchos.
So I guess the only solution is to .... steal pants. I am left with no other option. If any of you know any sweet spots to score some pants, let me know. Or better yet, SEND me your pants. And send boxes. And peanut butter cookies. Wait! Send a BOX full of cookies, wrapped in your pants. Perfect.
# posted by yellow_mustard_girl : 12:47 PM
Comments:
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BWAHAHAHA!!!
OMG, that killed me.
I'd send you my pants but they'd simply be too big and probably not long enough. We're petite in these parts. And a little pudgy. But mostly petite.
~Lachlan
OMG, that killed me.
I'd send you my pants but they'd simply be too big and probably not long enough. We're petite in these parts. And a little pudgy. But mostly petite.
~Lachlan
# posted by 
: 3:59 PM
: 3:59 PM
Why you gotta playa-hate on my spandex, yo?!?!
Ok, where do I start?
Do you speak of the British 'pants', which means underwear? Or trousers and pantaloons, as us Western Civ. people think of them?
Gaucos. Hee, hee.
Maybe you should join 'The Sisterhood Of The Travelling Pants'.
Plus, I think you should change the name of your blog to 'The Friendly Tapeworm'.
You probably don't want to steal my 'pants', as I am a dude, with a 28" to 32" waist.
You probably would end up looking like a gang-banger if you stole mine.
And as for your self-depriciating humor, you need to shoosh.
You know you're hot, but just won't admit it.
Much gay love, from Big Daddy!
Ok, where do I start?
Do you speak of the British 'pants', which means underwear? Or trousers and pantaloons, as us Western Civ. people think of them?
Gaucos. Hee, hee.
Maybe you should join 'The Sisterhood Of The Travelling Pants'.
Plus, I think you should change the name of your blog to 'The Friendly Tapeworm'.
You probably don't want to steal my 'pants', as I am a dude, with a 28" to 32" waist.
You probably would end up looking like a gang-banger if you stole mine.
And as for your self-depriciating humor, you need to shoosh.
You know you're hot, but just won't admit it.
Much gay love, from Big Daddy!
To all of you kind enough to comment:
STOP GIVING ME EXCUSES. SEND ME YOUR PANTS! I don't care what the size, material or cultural reference is. I will find a way to make them work. You can do wonders with duct tape and rubber bands.
Seeeend yooooourrr paaaanttssss.
(that is to be read in a zombie voice, by the way. I like adding these kind of touches, it creates a richer experience for the reader. Pants.)
STOP GIVING ME EXCUSES. SEND ME YOUR PANTS! I don't care what the size, material or cultural reference is. I will find a way to make them work. You can do wonders with duct tape and rubber bands.
Seeeend yooooourrr paaaanttssss.
(that is to be read in a zombie voice, by the way. I like adding these kind of touches, it creates a richer experience for the reader. Pants.)
I named mine Estaban :)
The tapeworm, not my too-small pants. I name those after characters in classical literature.
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The tapeworm, not my too-small pants. I name those after characters in classical literature.
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