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i'm a winter breeze in summertime;
Jul. 29th, 2008 03:46 amI hate it when pants are too short for me.
This isn't a minor thing to me, which is possibly why I gripe about it more than ... well, more than anyone ever, maybe. I fucking hate it. Since I'm five-foot-ten, and—thanks to vanity sizing—a size four, "too short for me" usually translates to every single goddamn pair of pants I can ever get my hands on, mostly jeans. I've probably spent more than a thousand dollars in the last two years on clothes that I absolutely refuse to wear. They look fine in the store, and then I take them home and wear them a couple of times and I look alright in then but then I discover that, lo and behold, when I sit down you can see two inches of sock over my tennis shoes and oh my god, I fucking—hate—that.
I feel like a clown. Utterly ridiculous. It doesn't bother me, it upsets me.
It upsets me so much that, if this phenomena is occurring, I won't even feel like bothering with the rest of my appearance. No makeup or anything. What's the point? I already look completely stupid.
... This isn't exactly normal, is it? And its weirdness just now occurred to me. Because I am, yes, dressed like a goddamn clown, obsessing over how completely fucking stupid I look in these jeans that are two inches too fucking short for me.
This isn't a minor thing to me, which is possibly why I gripe about it more than ... well, more than anyone ever, maybe. I fucking hate it. Since I'm five-foot-ten, and—thanks to vanity sizing—a size four, "too short for me" usually translates to every single goddamn pair of pants I can ever get my hands on, mostly jeans. I've probably spent more than a thousand dollars in the last two years on clothes that I absolutely refuse to wear. They look fine in the store, and then I take them home and wear them a couple of times and I look alright in then but then I discover that, lo and behold, when I sit down you can see two inches of sock over my tennis shoes and oh my god, I fucking—hate—that.
I feel like a clown. Utterly ridiculous. It doesn't bother me, it upsets me.
It upsets me so much that, if this phenomena is occurring, I won't even feel like bothering with the rest of my appearance. No makeup or anything. What's the point? I already look completely stupid.
... This isn't exactly normal, is it? And its weirdness just now occurred to me. Because I am, yes, dressed like a goddamn clown, obsessing over how completely fucking stupid I look in these jeans that are two inches too fucking short for me.
