I'm so excited to announce that yesterday I guest posted on Throwing Up Words, the excellent new blog by by writer BFFs Ann Dee Ellis and Carol Lynch Williams. This week they're discussing my alma mater Vermont College, home of the Fighting Pens (Just kidding. I don't even think we have a mascot. But it's nonetheless a fine, fine school). There are lots of great, informative posts. Mine is about how much I love exchanging pants. And also about VC. I'm not gonna lie to you, it's been a tough go of it for me and pants.
It started out last summer, when I went shopping with my established-writer (and thus very, very, wealthy) BFF Sara. I needed pants. I don't like shopping for pants because I'm oddly shaped. My torso-to-leg ratio is apparently way, way off, so jeans hang several inches below my ankles. I'm short, but I'm not that short--just my legs are. So jeans also hang several inches below my waist. Which would be A-OK was I a thong sportin' type of girl, but I am not. Thus, the all-day search began.
We ended up at Nordstrom, where my wealthy friend was appalled by my inability to pay a SALE PRICE of $85 for a pair of jeans that fit. So I threw caution to the wind and purchased them.
They were similar to this, except they had had small copper studs on the pocket. These studs promptly fell off, one after the other in sad-after-sad wash. The jeans now looked stupid. I had paid EIGHTY FIVE DOLLARS for them! On sale! An exchange was necessary.
However, they no longer manufacture these jeans, because, you know, they were on sale. Why make sale-jeans year round? So I found the similar-looking jeans not on sale and asked to exchange them. Which I could, but only for the NOT ON SALE price! So instead I returned them and came home with $85 and no pants. I mean, I had pants on. But that was it.
I was indignant when I relayed the story to my husband, who recapped my 45-minute saga into this: "So you bought a pair of jeans, wore them for six months, returned them and got back the exact amount of money you paid for them?"
I could sense a trick. Like he was trying to make me look like the crazy one in all this. "Yes, but now I don't have any pants!" (Again, don't misunderstand: I was wearing pants). "I just wanted pants for pants. And they wanted to charge me an additional$30 to do so! Making my pants a total of $115! I can't spend $115 for a pair of jeans. Who am I, Blair Waldorf?"
He ignored the lame Gossip Girl reference and pointed out that actually, I was getting a pair-and-a-half of jeans for $115, since I'd already worn the other pair so thoroughly. "It's like you were leasing your pants," he explained.
Everyone knows leasing is a rip-off.
In other news, check back soon for my next post, in which I explain why SIXer and writer BFF Brodi Ashton went on a hunger strike every day on our trip to Vegas (Hint: she was protesting the fact that we weren't seeing Barry Manilow, until we reminded her that he doesn't start performing until March 5--mark your calendar now! The next day she would forget again, and the hunger strike resumed. Oh, Brodi. We never actually ended up eating until after 3 p.m).