Last week, I raved about my passionate love for jeggings. I’d like to think our love is a two-way street. Maybe they love me back, too. I hope so. I think I’ll leave a note in their pocket—do you like me? Circle ‘yes’ or ‘no.’
Today, the other end of the spectrum. A hateful rant against the least comfortable pants I own—probably the least comfortable pants in existence. Despite my hatred for them and my general grumpiness whenever I choose to wear them, I can’t let them go. Jeff bought them for me, which is kind of incredible because A) they are cute (!), and B) they fit (! shock, awe), but he clearly did not try them on to test the comfort level before purchase. Shame on him.
An angry list of discomfort-induced rage:
- They have almost zero stretch, which is outrageous. Look how tight they are. JUST LOOK. Imagine trying to wriggle your way in and out of skin-tight jeans with no fabric give, or trying to sit down and stand up in a pair of pants that barely allow any bending at the knees. Badly done, Old Navy, badly done indeed!
But on the other hand:
- They are yellow.
I suppose that is enough.