I owned (yup, past tense) a pair of seersucker pants. They always looked rather chic – hanging in my closet.
I wore them once. I am convinced they were see-through. I can also guarantee they accentuated the cottage cheese dimples of my derrière. Thankfully it is impossible for this fashion faux pas to ever happen again.
You see, a few months ago I tried the seersucker pants on. Tried being the key word. Are you aware of what seersucker sounds like as it is being stretched beyond its capable limits? I am now extremely familiar with the sound of shredding cotton.
Final verdict – I am the sucker here.
I split my pants.
I laughed hysterically.
I immediately went to the kitchen and ate peanut butter straight from the jar.
While I am on the honesty train… I didn’t waste time putting on another pair of pants. I stood in the kitchen, in my skivvies, with a spoon, and a jar of PB.
This is how I deal.