RIPped Pants

As women, we are constantly advised to appreciate our bodies. To feel empowered, embrace our imperfections and accept that we are all different shapes and sizes. Then there is the reverse side where we are smothered by the media telling us to have a slammin’ Summer body – Shucks, I forgot to get my bikini body ready for the Summer AGAIN… better luck next year. 

Fitness is a great stress reliever, but I believe so is retail therapy (or that’s what I tell myself), but shopping is not always a joyous occasion, especially when I try on a pair of pants that suggests “one size fits all.” That indicates to me that a pair of jeans I cannot fit my right toe into, fits every other woman. The recording artist Macklemore says, “I’m gonna pop some tags,” but I say, I’m gonna pop that designer… Well my tough friends are going to anyways (Thanks in advance, Ty).  

I am slightly bitter towards “one size fits all” because my family was ‘blessed’ with tree trunk legs. The only time these bad boys have come in handy is during dance exams, but that’s about all they’ve been good for. Since I have thick legs, I ware out pants  in a jiffy, which may upset some, but in actuality excites me because that means I have a trip to the mall in the near future. (and no, I am not domesticated and know how to sew). 

In Sticks and Stones I briefly mentioned the mishaps I’ve had at work regarding my clothes. Well, this story begins and ends with my favourite black pants. 

One morning the weather was not the only thing that was gloomy, so was one of the residents.  This was easy to depict before I even spoke to her as she was slouched in her chair and her head was droopy.

We only spoke for a short time and it was apparent she was not in the mood for my humour, if you can believe it! She was sending mixed signals when she did not want me to move, but was telling me to go (yes, another Justin Bieber reference). This was nothing out of the ordinary, as this resident can be a bit of a challenge some days, but it just so happens I love a challenge. 

I crouched down to be at eye level with the resident,  when suddenly I heard the most God awful “riiiip!” I realized with dawning horror that the sound was my pants and the result was not a small hole. 

Since the resident’s head was hanging low, she was lucky enough to have a front row seat to my show. 

She raised her head, flaunting a million dollar smile and proclaimed, “it appears you ripped your pants.”

The worst part was not the fact that she may have seen my under garments, because if you have been following the blog, at this point, who hasn’t? But it was only the start of my day and I was walking like a duck.

The challenge was successful… at the cost of my pants. 

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