Okay, the ladies will sympathize with me, and the men just wont get it. My husband in his infinite wisdom put my ONLY pair of jeans that fit in the dryer. Catastrophe! As you know...if you have a pair of jeans that juuust barely fits, you do not under any circumstances put them in the dryer. Ever. Because they somehow end up approximately 4 sizes smaller. Well, thats where they ended up.
I put on them top of MY pile of clothes the last time I wore them( I have issues putting clothing AWAY) and this morning as I am rushing around getting ready to take Monkey to his dentist appointment, I notice they are gone. I search...NO jeans, well, not mine anyway, K's were readily available...but I havent gotten to the point that I need to steal his jeans yet. I stress YET. I continue my search, and I find them at the bottom of a laundry basket. Folded. The panic starts. Why on earth would MY jeans be folded, at the bottom of a laundry basket unless......no, that couldnt be....he washed them? But wait, he knows(because I've told him) my jeans cant go in the dryer. And yet here they are DRY and folded ever so neatly at the bottom of a laundry basket. This CANT be good. I take the jeans out and they look like childrens jeans to me. Ok deep breath. Put them on I say, maybe they arent going to be as tight as they look like they'll be. Ha!! I got them to just above mid thigh before I started to sweat. I'm looking in the mirror as I'm struggling with the toddler sized jeans, and I can see a mix of panic, disgust, and a shimmer of sweat on my upper brow. I'm not sure if the sweat was from the panic or the exertion of trying to pull up my damn jeans. Either way, NOT good. I'm pulling and they are going nowhere, FAST. So I try the wiggle. MOVEMENT! Hallelujah!! "Easy tiger, lets not get over excited here. You'll pass out from the lack of blood that has been cut off at the thighs" This is what I'm muttering to myself as I do my pathetic wiggle shimmy. I manage to get them to mid ass at this point, my comfort level has dropped drastically. I feel like I'm slowly being compressed. And I think I may have abrasions going up my thighs and stopping just below the waist. No matter. They are almost on all the way! I pull and I wiggle and I'm now doing deep knee bends, as deep as I can manage without causing internal bleeding or ripping the jeans. Aaaaaand they are up!! RESULTS!!! Thank you! Thank you!! I feel as though I've won a war, until I try to button them. This isnt going to end well. As it is I think I may have damaged one or more of my organs trying to get the damn things on...and now, I have to try and button them?!? I'm looking at the amount of jeans I have and the amount of body they are supposed to go around. How is THIS going to work?! There isnt enough!! Panic! I'm light headed, I dont know if I have the strength for this, I look at the clock, Ahhhh!!! I'm supposed to leave in 5 minutes!! Shit Shit Shit!! I havent even done my make up yet. Greta, just great.." okay girl, no time to get all squeamish, just DO IT!" So I pull, and think thin thoughts, I strain harder, and its working!! I'm getting closer, just not quite close enough. Then I remember the laying down thing. YES! That will work, it has to! Its always worked in the past....so I flomp myself backwards onto the bed, I grab hold of either sides of my pants and I pull with all my might! And it worked! I buttoned my jeans! My face is flushed, my thighs, and hips are sore, and it feels as though I'm being cut in half, but who the hell cares!! I buttoned my pants!! I let out a sigh of relief, and tried to get up. I'm kinda stuck. What the hell is this?! Oh for the love of all that is good and decent, I cant bend!! I'm like a turle! On my back and helpless. I will not call for help, I wont do it. To be seen in this predicament, would be mortifying. So I roll. Its the only choice I have at this point. I roll onto my side, and I'm up! I do a mini victory dance, because to much movement might have caused an explosion of flesh and denim. That of which I had no time to clean up. I do my best to "run" up the stairs to finish getting ready, but running wasnt really an option, it was more of a waddle scooch, I'm having a hard time bending my legs as well, the jeans just wont budge. Ugh. I think I've dislocated my belly button. Is that possible??? Well, even if I did.....I'm NOT going to the doctor! No friggin way am I trying to explain this one. "well you see Dr.whatshisface, my husband put my jeans in the dryer, and well..." NO THANK YOU! I'll pass and suffer in silence.
I get upstairs and take a good look at myself in the mirror, better lighting up there. I shouldnt have done that though, I stared at what used to be my hips, but now looked like a large wad of under cooked dough hanging over my pants. NO! I have a severe muffin top! I do a silent scream and I mentally slap my husband around for shrinking the ONLY pair of jeans I have. Nothing I can do about it now though. Monkey needs his teeth cleaned.
Okay, we're out the door and headed to the car, the walking is still a bit difficult, but either the lack of blood is causing numbness or maybe the jeans are stretching because it doesnt hurt as much. Thank gods for the small things. I go to get in the car and remember the bending issue, crap. Oh well, suck it up buttercup, gotta sit to go in a car. And so I do, I fold myself and my painfully tight jeans into the car. Oh, the pressure. I look in the mirror, and I'm pretty sure my face is turning purple. Lovely. Purple is a nice color right? I hear this whooshing sound in my ears though.....thats not normal. To the dentist we go.
I'm sitting, more like folded in the waiting room, waiting for his turn. I think I can hear my organs screaming. "Please hurry" I think towards the woman behind the counter. She's talking to me, I think, but I cant hear past the sound of my organs being compressed. And just to add to the fun, I had to pee. There was no way I was pulling my pants down here! I'd never get them back up, I'd pass out in the bathroom and they would call an ambulance, I'd be on the front page of the newspaper. Nope! Again, I'll suffer in silence. Thank you. She finally figures out that the reason the fax we were waiting to get wasnt coming through is because the fax was off the hook. BRILLIANT! I'm sitting here damaging vital organs and this woman who is smiling a little to much, cant even figure out that the fax is off the hook?!! I have no blood flowing to my brain,and I could have figured that out. At this point I'd love to take a calming breath, but I fear doing so. I could really hurt someone, what if my button shot off, and hit the guy across from me in the eye? I'd feel terrible.
So we eventually go home, Monkeys teeth are cleaned, and I get to take my jeans off. I am now in sweat pants, and my belly button seems to be okay, I guess they are pretty resilient little guys after all. I'm exhausted. I now have a new years resolution, lose the 25 lbs I've gained. I cant do this crap everyday. I'll end up with a hernia or dislocated belly button.