Today is Thursday. It’s a workday. And Monday through Thursday I’m forced to dress like a girl. A professional business gal if you will. I decided I didn’t want to wear any of the clothes I had available, so I started digging into the back of the closet for the things I forget I own. I found a pair of grey pants. I don’t even remember getting them. They’re wide-legged with a wide waistband. That’s supposed to compliment a tall, not-skinny woman such as myself. They looked nice when I put them on and I got a bit excited. I checked them out combined with a blouse and vest. I looked like a professional! Hair in a bun and we’re ready to go rule the world of government.
I was proud of myself for finding a “new” pair of pants to wear. I was stupidly excited my pants match the rest of my outfit. I felt like an adult. And as I sat down in the car to leave, I suddenly felt like I’d made a mistake.
I’d forgotten why I’d shoved those pants in the back of the closet but it all came rushing back when I was in the car with no time left to go change and not much in the way of clean pants to change into. If you have any stomach that isn’t super flat or better yet, concave in toward your spine, when you sit you get a roll. I do not possess a super flat nor concave stomach. My roll exists and we grudgingly coexist. However, in these pants, my roll was restrained from becoming a roll by the wide and not at all flexible waistband.
I made a wheezy sound when the ability to breathe was taken from me. I squirmed and wiggled and adjusted until I finally ended up yanking the pants up to support my bra’s function and scrooching down in the seat so my roll ended up in the crotch of the pants (which, unlike the waistband, was generously oversized and proves clothes are made to fit something other than human bodies). I drove into work concerned about how the day would go.
I work in an office building. I sit in a cubicle. I get up and down a lot to print, scan, go to meetings, etc. Every single time I sat down I had to try to casually pull my pants up to my bra and relax my roll into my pants oversized crotch. It was an odd slumpy position to be forced into for a long period of time. And when I stood up the waistband of my pants was still doubling as a bra so I ended up with the crotch up at my belly button and the mother of all wedgies. I’d have to try and not in any obvious way pull them down from my ears and back into a normal pants position.
This occurred no less than 2039802937230948.0332 times. My stomach is angry. The pants are angry. I have no idea how to make those pants work. I also feel like my roll has PTSD.
I ended up laying back in my chair groaning and rubbing my stomach by the end of the day. I’m a classy, delicate flower.
As an aside, there is a mystery in the women’s restroom at work. There’s a little credenza type thing at work. I’m super angry that I didn’t take a picture when the oddity began. Someone placed several books on the bottom shelf of the credenza. I wasn’t sure why a library randomly appeared in the women’s restroom for an office building, but I didn’t pay really close attention for a bit. Then one caught my eye because the picture on the front was a stylized drawing of two individuals looking rather intimate for a drawing. It was not written in English, so I can’t know for sure, but I believe it was a rather bawdy romance novel. So, was someone leaving a library for their future bathroom breaks of longer duration? Was it meant as a “free to a good home” situation? It was perplexing. And now they’ve disappeared as suddenly as they appeared. So we’ll never know.
I’m so glad tomorrow is Friday. I’m going to allow my stomach free reign and not care a bit that it’s not flat. At least I won’t suffocate.