This past weekend I got into a fight. It was nasty and involved yelling. It also got physical, which is not something I am proud of. I really wanted this relationship to work and I know I tried, I truly did. But I finally said what I’ve wanted to for months:
“I never want to see you again. No matter WHAT I do, this partnership is never going to work. I don’t care if you’re popular and everyone loves you. I do not. It is OVER.”
Good-bye Low-Rise Jeans,
I don’t know what kind of ass one is supposed to grow on their backside to hold you up but clearly mine isn’t strong enough…or big enough. Not only am I emotionally drained by you but I’m physically weak from spending an entire weekend pulling you up: OVER and OVER and OVER again. If it wasn’t for my knees, I’d be pant-less.
Sorry, what was that? Buy a belt? What a novel idea jerk face. I WAS wearing a belt but you’ve got so much weight bearing stretch in you that my belt was no match for your obnoxious trip down to my ankles. And just for the record, I was wearing a Michael Kors belt. If he couldn’t keep you around my hip region than no one can.
And let me be clear…this really isn’t about my butt. It’s a fine bum. And although no one is about to cat-call me on the street for the’ junk in my trunk’ they are also not about to express empathy for any full-butt removal. It is there my friend, and it’s ADORABLE.
So, see ya later Alligator. I hope you have a blast in the second hand store, which frankly, is a HUGE step up from where I was originally going to chuck you. If I wasn’t convinced that I’d be pulled over by a cop while only wearing underwear you would currently be sitting under the wheels of someone’s family van in a department store parking lot.
I suppose at this point I’m supposed to drum up a few choice lovely moments we had together to highlight the fact that it wasn’t all that bad, so here it is: Thanks for the 3 minutes I tried you on in the change room. Under that low lighting, angled mirror and tinted brown glass I looked like I had the ass of a Kardashian. But, after wearing you for 10 minutes and, God forbid, washing you ONCE, you turned into the most high maintenance relationship I’ve ever had. I shouldn’t have to lift you up EVERY time I get off the couch. My infant doesn’t even require that much work.
So goodbye low-risers. And you know what? Take my lame-ass gym wear with you as well. I’ve had TWO CHILDREN come out of my body, I shouldn’t have to wear a faded green t-shirt from 6 years ago that says, “tennis, tennis, tennis” to a boxercise class. I don’t even play tennis.
p.s. I do recognize that I now have no clothing. So be it.
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