Pants Shopping Adventure (Part 1)

Lately I've noticed the waistline of my pants has been getting smaller and smaller. I doubt that this is actually the case. I fear that, instead, it is in fact my waist and belly that's growing larger and larger, due to the fact that I do nothing but guzzle booze and eat every manner of fast food that I can get my increasingly pudgy hands on. In addition, I do not exercise at all. I find that it makes me overly tired and sometimes causes my muscles to be sore. And as my mother once told me when I was very young, "Anything that causes any type of pain whatsoever, is definitely not worth doing." Of course, my mother was (and still is) a morbidly obese blob of a woman who prides herself on her ability to eat more food than anyone else at the table at Thanksgiving dinner (and every other dinner for that matter). I once asked her, "Mum, didn't it hurt when you gave birth to me? Wasn't I worth the pain?"

She responded by grunting fiercely, giving me a crisp facial smacking, and then emptying my dinner plate onto hers, despite the fact that I had yet to nourish myself.

In addition to my waistline getting tighter, it seems that the cuffs of my stylish pants are travelling higher and higher up my legs, thus exposing my pasty ankles. When I sit down, even my embarrassing calves are exposed, thus drawing cruel taunts and laughter from the well-fitting-pants-wearing people around me. I've even attempted to "sag" my pants like the mislead teens from the streets do, but that only results in my bare rump hanging freely over the rear waistline and often times my penis will make it's presence known by flopping forth from it's hiding place, taped snugly to my stomach. Needless to say, "sagging" my pants is a humiliating experience.

After many nights of weeping hysterically and drinking dangerous amounts of cheap alcohol, I came to the decision that I was in need of some new pants. This wasn't an easy decision for me to come to. A person doesn't just go out one day and buy pants. It's not like buying booze or pornography.

I journeyed to the local department store with a pocket full of loose change and a head full of dreams of new pants. Unfortunately, the pants that I wore to the store that day were some of the terrible ones that I mentioned earlier and the pockets had massive holes in them, thus spilling change all down my pasty legs. (I'd cut holes in the pockets a few months earlier in order to better sneakily please myself in public situations) I angrily picked up the loose change and placed it into a large Sonic cup that I found in the trashcan outside the department store entrance. Then, I proudly strutted into the store, brandishing my Sonic cup like a thirsty sports enthusiast.

I walked down isle after isle, gazing at pants of many different sizes and styles. I finally found a nice black pair of trousers that I immediately took a liking to. I snatched them off the rack, sending pants and hangers flying to the floor. I hastily sauntered to the changing room and opened the first door I came to. I entered the changing room and was immediately met with a shrill scream. I spun quickly to find myself face to face with a middle aged African American woman who happened to be completely nude from the waist up. I gawked at her sagging breasts and stifled a giggle. The fierce slap that she delivered to my face brought me back to a harsh reality and I dashed from the room, slamming the door behind me. Then, I reentered the room once more to snatch the trousers that I had inadvertently left on the floor. The crisp smack that she delivered to my opposite cheek was surely a warning that if I was to enter her private space again, I would surely be destroyed. I assumed it was because I was white.

"I am truly sorry for the atrocities my people committed against yours!" I shouted through the door. I assumed by her profane screams that all was forgiven and I slipped hastily into the next changing room. Dr. King would've been proud.