Pants

I have pants. This clue might help you guess who I am, because now you can rule out all the creative writing students that don’t wear pants. I hope this didn’t ruin all the fun to give away who I am, but the fact that I wear pants is an essential piece of information for this post. So I’ve sacrificed my identity for this post. Because, really, there aren’t a lot of people that wear pants. And since you know that I wear pants, you’ve probably guessed exactly who I am. I would congratulate you on figuring it out, but it wasn’t even that hard. I might as well have just said my name. I might even do it to prove a point.

But we’re getting off topic now.

Pants. Those things you put on your legs. They come in many colors and sizes and materials. And also pants is plural, even thought there’s only one. Like if you were like, “Can you go get a pair of pants for my twins.” They would bring you one even though you asked for a pair. Because this is the cruel world we live in, where you’re taught how to count but, SURPRISE this one object is actually two things in one so count THAT little four year old.

Well I have a pair of pants (one). I should say I had a pair. They went missing, I’m afraid. I couldn’t find them anywhere. No matter how many times I checked my drawer, they did not reappear. I decided they had probably made their way to wherever the lost socks go.

But then I found them.

On my ten-year-old brother.

Now since you already know who I am, I can tell you that I am a high school girl, and I am not the size of a ten-year-old boy. So my brother had worn these ill-fitting, very big girl pants to school multiple times. And when I realized he was wearing my pants, I asked for them back.

What he said was, “Can I just wear them to school?”

😐

I think the moral of the story here is:

Don’t wear pants. They’re not worth it.

Anyone want to go kilt shopping?