Secret Lives of Pants, #1

I thought that I was destined for higher things. Really, looking back on it now, I don't know why I thought that, but I did. I'm not even sure what I meant by "higher things," even. A hat? That would have been higher.

I know I didn't expect to never fit. I mean, I never fit ANYBODY. I must have been passed on to ten women, maybe twelve ... and nobody was happy. I was too baggy in the thighs on one; too loose in the waist on another; indistinguishable from a sausage casing on the third. Too short, too long, too liable to ride up in embarrassing ways: if I could be uncomfortable, I was. It's not that I meant to; I really didn't. It's just what I was.

The worst part, though, was what they called me. Did you know that there are people in this world who use the word "pants" to mean something is ludicrously terrible? "That film was utter pants." "Slacks" is also just plain awful. Why "slacks"? Why not "sharps"? "I think I'll put on a pair of slacks." You might as well say "I think I'll go shoot myself in the foot." Pantaloons? Loony. Knickers? What a horse does. Britches? "You betchure." Breeches? Once more into the breeches, my friends. Trousers? You've got to be kidding me. TROOOOOOW-zers. Just say it a few times, you'll see. I prefer "nether garment" myself, but, of course, nobody asked me. Hardly anyone even tried me on more than once, so we didn't get to the "what should I call you" stage.

I haven't given up hope, though. Somebody picked me up in a thrift store (I have sunk so low, I admit it) the other day. When she stopped laughing, she held me up to her friend. "I think I can do something with this," she said.

"What, violate non-proliferation agreements?" (Her friend was holding a chartreuse batwing sweater, so I don't know where she found room to talk.)

"No -- what if I did that jeans-to-skirt thing?"

Her friend stopped, considering. "Well, that COULD be cute ... and if not, there's always turning it into a tote bag. Your mom would love it."

So that's what I'm waiting for now. To be a tote bag. Or maybe (oh please!) a skirt. Being a skirt wouldn't be completely pants, would it?

Bonus Post for Fabric Week: Jokes

Here are two terrible fabric jokes. Does anyone have any better ones?

What Did the Bolt of Fabric Tell His Daughter When She Threatened to Run Away to India?

"Go ahead ... you'll be sari."

(From Defective Yeti, courtesy Annette ... )

And this one, which turned up I-don't-know-how:

Walking up to a department store’s fabric counter, a pretty girl asked, “I want to buy this material for a new dress. How much does it cost?”

“Only one kiss per yard, ” replied the smirking male clerk.

“That’s fine,” replied the girl. “I’ll take ten yards.”

With expectation and anticipation written all over his face, the clerk hurriedly measured out and wrapped the cloth, then held it out teasingly.

The girl snapped up the package, pointed to a little old man standing beside her, smiled and said, “Grandpa pay the man.”

(That one must be ancient; when's the last time you saw a department store with a fabric counter? From here).

Please tell me some of you have better ones. You can leave 'em in the comments.