Evil jeans from Uranus

I don't know what it is about jeans and me, but they don't like me.

I like them but they don't like me.

I can't wear normal pants. When you are The Calamity Man, pants just don't work for you because you're a natural disaster waiting to happen any time of day.

Zippers suddenly break when I'm at work, I wouldn't notice the patch of water on the floor, slip and fall on my butt or knees, curry splattering all over, those sort of things so I need to put on something rugged that can withstand almost any calamity.

Hence, short of wearing American Football gear, I put on jeans.

Today I went shopping around for another pair of jeans, black. I was walking around at Peninsula Hotel Shopping Centre when I saw some on sale. So I went in, grabbed a pair of size 31 and entered the fitting room.

God I took ten minutes to button the damn thing. I haven't even gotten to zipping up yet. I mean, I fit the thing. It was my size (in deep denial here). I huffed and I puffed but I just couldn't get the damn button into the eyelet.

I managed after ten minutes of course. So after looking at myself in the mirror, checking out the fit and the length and all, I decided that it wasn't for me. It was a little long (not that I'm short hur hur) so I decided not to buy it.

I grunted. I sucked my tummy in, held my breath till my face turned green and my veins portruded, I was turning into another superhero, (GAAA!) and now I couldn't get the $^^&@$!!! button out. What the heck?! Was there a conspiracy? Ok I know I'm fat ok, just get me out of this monster!

I gave up. I surrendered.

I came out of the fitting room. I told the guy the button wouldn't come out and I couldn't get myself out of the jeans. He said, "Ok come out. I help you."

"Like. No way dude!"

I went back in. Trrried to summon all my inner yin yang to free myself of this evil jeans from Uranus, my body banging violently against the walls of the fitting room but after yet another ten minutes I gave up again. Totally pooped out. I was sweating all over.

I opened the door, took a few steps out, shoved my pelvis at the scissor-holding salesman and surrendered myself to him.

And then I saw everyone looking at me.

So I grabbed the guy into the fitting room, closed the door and let the guy do whatever it took to free me. FREEEEE MEEEEE!

He yanked and yanked at the thing for a couple of minutes and finally, FINALLY it came out. The button just dropped with a little "poop" sound on the floor.

I was free.

I was afraid I'd have to pay for causing, albeit unintentionally, damage to his ware but he was cool with it. I guess I'm not the first crazy guy to be trapped in a pair of jeans in his shop. I said a quick thank you and walked out.

I was a free man once again!

For the record, I did manage to get something el cheapo for $37 at another shop. I bargained it down from $45. It was a size 31 as well. See? It's bad cutting, the earlier pair of jeans. I'm not FAT.