All pants are torture devices

I’m having an issue with pants today. Just like I did yesterday, the day before and the day before that, and the day before that.

I hate pants.

I’m not one for skirts or dresses and am basically a never-nude, but I despise shopping for pants of all kinds (unless they’re pajama pants).


I usually buy pants in bulk, like, four of the same kind. Most people think I’m wearing the same pair over and over again, but I’m not. It’s hard for me to find pants that fit. My bum’s too big, my hips are too wide and I have what I consider to be, fat knees.  I usually buy from Dynamite because they’ve got nice stretchy dress pants, but I’ve noticed lately threads have been pulling and they’re not looking too cute.

So now I must go buy new pants.

The pair I’m wearing is a size too large (boo hoo, wanna be skinny bitch) and I’ve literally got them hiked over my belly button like a 80’s sitcom Mom. My crotch looks like it’s a foot long. I think some of the men in the office are having penis envy.




I’m in need of a shopping trip.

Or I can just let myself go, quit my job and only wear pajamas.

Decisions, decisions.



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