Look, I know it's summer and everyone is writing light-hearted posts about frolicking outside and making daisy chains while they wear heart shaped sunglasses and toast tall glasses of lemonade that never attract bees. But I'm going to have to burst that perfect summer lovin' bubble and share with you the darkness in my soul that is... PANTS SHOPPING.
Just typing that gave me shivers. You'd think I would be safe since it's summer now and doesn't that mean I'm pretty much required to be half naked all the time? Well, I've been told that flying free isn't really in this season and I have to cover up every once in a while. Which is too bad because trying to buy shorts is essentially 8x worse since now there's the whole avoiding showing the bottom third of my butt cheek to the American public to contend with. "Oh don't mind me sir, I'm just trying to grab a bottle of sunblock and simultaneously keep my shorts hem from riding up to my eyebrows, tee hee!"
So since I was unfortunately not born with whatever mythical proportions clothing manufacturers believe women possess, (Do they give the designers LSD before they hand over the drawing pencils? Because there has to be some sort of altered consciousness going on there.) I've had to develop some weapons for the Battle of the Bottoms shopping.
1. An ally
NEVER, and I repeat, NEVER go pants shopping alone. There needs to be someone else there to stay sane on your behalf. Because the pants frenzy will turn you and things will get ugly. You don't want to bring the kids to this and ruin their innocence, this encounter is for adults only. So bring someone that you can trust to soothe your ravaged nerves and remind you that you are not in fact shaped like a bizzaro Pez dispenser/ elephant hybrid.
2. Reverence for spandex and lycra
I want to kiss whoever invented these fabrics full on the mouth. Maybe some tongue. 'Cause if I had a nickel for every time I pulled on a pair of pants that were otherwise perfect except for that one fatal flaw (too short, waistband gapes, won't actually fit over my badonkadonk etc.) I'd be writing this from my yacht in Key West. I've realized that over time I have pretty much weaned things with real person waistbands out of my wardrobe completely and you know what? I'M OKAY WITH THAT. So viva la stretchy pants!
3. A reward
You went to war and sacrificed your wallet and self-esteem, you deserve to be recognized. Even if you didn't find anything that fit, (though in that case Plan B is always a pair of black yoga pants. Trust me on this one.) I personally prefer a good stiff drink
So I hope this helps you on your journey towards clothing your rears. Feel free to print this and keep it in your wallet for unplanned mall attacks. I wish you all a summer full of breezy fabrics and flexible waistbands and may your booties never unexpectedly fly in the wind again.