So I was standing in my closet, getting dressed for the day.
I pulled on my favorite pair of jeans and noticed they were tight. Like too tight to button. And naturally I convinced myself that I couldn’t button them because they had just been washed. You know, cuz jeans totally shrink when you dry them. I mean, it couldn’t have *anything* to do with the amount of calories I took in last week versus how many I put out.
That would be ridiculous.
And involves some form of math and we all know I’m terrible at math. But I’m pretty sure the results would be astoundingly depressing.
Anyway, I finally managed to get them fastened, then proceeded to do the whole bend and stretch routine to loosen them up a bit.
And that’s when I blew out the whole crotch. In rock star fashion.
Behold. The jeans that used to not be ripped in the crotch.
Just then Ethan walked in right as I was bent over, observing the damage.
He shook his head and said, “You’re going to need a really big band-aid.”
Agitated with myself, I unbuttoned my jeans, kicked them off, and threw them across the closet. They landed in the corner with a sad little thud.
Ethan watched in awe as I threw a mini tantrum.
He looked at the jeans and then back at me. “What’s the matter, Mama?”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I’m too fat for my clothes right now. I ate too much last week.”
He looked at my half naked body and said, “You’re not fat, Mommy.”
I managed a smile. I mean he *is* the most adorable little man on the planet. “Thanks for saying that, E. You really don’t think I’m fat?”
“Well, maybe just a little bit.”
And then he ran out of the closet.
For sale: One adorable little boy who *may* or *may not* fully grasp the art of lying flattery.
PS. I would never eat a sandwich that my dog made me because I know for sure that he eats his own shit. What, you really think I’d eat something a *dog* made? I bet you think I’d eat out of the trash can too, huh. Oh, wait.
{ 26 comments… read them below or add one }
Funny, Shauna. I may or may not resemble this post. With the jeans. Not the ripped crotch. And my son? God love him, when he was younger he said, “how come your butt is so fat, mama?” In the bathroom stall, because, you know you can’t leave a toddler out where someone could abduct him while you poop. After that? I let him take his chances…he was too old to keep turned around while mama did her business.
And I don’t have a dog. I have cats. They have never offered to make me a sandwich. They have tried to eat mine, however.
Funny, my cats look like they wouldn’t mind eating ME!
At least you didn’t go out in public wearing hot pink underwear with your crotch flapping in the breeze (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qLNHMKC8nLE). Although I still think you should have posted a photo of you wearing the jeans!
Who wears hot pink panties under their holed out crotch? I have *no* idea what you’re talking about.
OMG!!! First of all, You’re not fat (from what I can see on this blog and facebook) and not even a little bit and although your son is SO cute! I wasn’t able to fit into a shirt I was able to fit into 3 months ago and I can’t have him freaking me out anymore sooooo on the sale, I’ll have to pass. How do you get those neat little captions to go under your pics like that?
I know I’m not fat. I’m fat-ish. There’s a difference. When a short girl, there’s not much room for error.
Captions under pictures: If you have WordPress it gives you the option of adding a caption when you upload a pic.
I’m using the Thanksgiving overeating as an excuse to buy a whole new wardrobe. It could work right?
And you? SO NOT FAT. puh-LEEZE.
I never thought about the buying a new wardrobe thing. Hmm. This could work.
This why I get up every Thanksgiving morning and run a 10K so at least when I don’t fit in my shorts I can lie and say its muscle!
I use that line too. “Hey, my ass looks huge in these pants. Ohhhhhh, it must be muscle.”
Yeah. That works.
whatves. those jeans still look tiny…bitch.
Hey! Funny shit. I was doing a crazy nazi (can I use that word? too late) diet for three weeks to get into my fav christmas dress and my scale was all; you lost seven pounds. I was so happy, but then I tried on my dress and it still was a bit too tight. So I got back on my scale and it was all; you lost two pounds. wtf? so I jumped on again and now it said I gained three pounds. So I bought a new scale and I really only lost one pound. All that and for three weeks I didn’t eat bread, pasta or chocolate! Talk about unfair. Oh, and you should totally sew a big bright yellow patch on your jeans and wear them anyway. Fuck you society with your non-coloured crotch patches! I bet you could totally rock that out!
You can say Nazi here. I say it all the time. In fact, you can pretty much say anything on this site except for the words Moist, Oral, and Toenail.
And dude, scales are sent from Satan himself.
When I was little, I looked at my mom and asked her “Why do you have buns on both sides?”….she had had an old fashioned C-section (my glorious birth) with the big vertical scar……….so, kids rock!:)
I just want my dogs to fetch me a cup of coffee in the morning. Nothing nearly as complicated as a sandwich. And do they ever do it? No. And I pay all their bills. And they lay around my house while I work.
Dogs are assholes.
And by the way, those jeans totally shrunk in the dryer, I can tell. I know these things. Don’t ask me how. I just do.
I remember a time about 15 years ago we were @ a McDonalds… #1 child(about 6 y/o @ the time) was sitting eating her happy meal and a woman came in who was heavy- I’m talking probably around 250-300 lbs… She innocently looked up and said “hey mom, look that lady looks like you” Now in comparison there was no comparison…(& it was shortly after the birth of child #3)
It was then that we had the *if you can’t say something nice don’t say anything at all conversation*… Hubby knew better than to make ANY comment what so ever…
surprisingly enough #1 child lived- she was just lucky she was cute.
I agree. A 5k in the morning balances out all the turkey, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, touchdown pie, etc I cram in my hole that day. It’s totally muscle why my pants are too tight!
Your child is adorable. And obviously has top-notch survival skills, since he ran from the room.
That’s the biggest crotch blowout I’ve ever seen–kudos!
BLAM. Nothing like a full blow out after the holidays. I think many of us felt the seams start to split on our poorly made garments after one too many helpings of mashed potato.
Did you sleep in the jeans and that was the result of your sleep farts? Just wondering…
Wow! Can’t say I’ve seen anything like it. And your child? Genius! He ran from the room, didn’t he?
(Ok, I just read the comments and saw TKW’s. I swear we must be the same person.)
THAT is a pants explosion.
You’re not fat… you’re PHAT. Even your son knows. Don’t sell him yet. Anyway, I think they’re worth more on the open market during their teens – cougars and such, you know.
OMG, I just found your sight from the DivineCaroline nomination whatever thing. I was ROTFLMAO about this post. Just the other day I told DH that we needed a new dryer because it kept shrinking my clothes!
I savored your post and am saving the feed for future posts. Thanks!