| weather | : | cloudy | |
| outside | : | 6.2°C | |
| mood | : |  | idiotic |
the Husband fast talk me into getting a pair of low rise jeans. USD$20; Tommy Hilfiger. It's spelled correctly too, which isn't as entertaining, but what the hey...
Let me get this straight. I paid a whole twenty dollars — USD — for the express privilege of continuously feeling like my pants are falling down. All day.
How do people put up with these things?
How long does it take for you to stop feeling the urge to yoik up your pants every three seconds in public, thereby giving yourself a humongous wedgie in public?
Of course, they are a bit loose and I could maybe use a belt. But they're a Size 2. I'd already been hopping in and out of the fitting room, trying on a 6, then a 4, then a 2. I didn't have it in me to try the Size 0...
Oh, and yes, I fell for the "could you please pick up that thing from the floor for me?" ploy once. *smirk*
