Thursday, May 30, 2013

Those damn pants

These pants, I love them…they’re crazy, they’re funky, they’re comfy.
But…they’re dangerous.
Well, they’re probably just dangerous when I’m wearing them.

{photo from Giddy Up Glamour}

I’ve had one incredibly embarrassing moment in these pants {and somehow I think it will do me good and make me feel less embarrassed if I just tell you all about it} and one really ouchy moment in these pants.

First, the embarrassing moment.
A couple of weeks ago, I’m very pleased with how cute my little family is looking for our nephew’s high school graduation.
You see here in our neck of the woods, we {mostly the Little Lady and I} pride ourselves in standing out. 
I doubt this would be the case if we lived for say in parts of Texas, but here in eastern Colorado, we’re pretty funky.
So our funky little selves are walking into the auditorium when my funky foot catches on my funky wide-legged pants and yes, you guessed it, my funky self, takes a funky fall.
Oh but it gets better…I’m carrying the Little Buckaroo.
When a lady falls AND she’s holding a baby, that’s a big scene.
I was actually pretty graceful in the fall {if there is such a thing} and neither one of us got hurt at all. 
I’m pretty sure GW didn’t even know anything had happened.
SO, besides my pride taking a lashing, all was fine.
{At the end of graduation, the Little Lady had to go potty, so as her and I were exiting the auditorium, she looks up at me and innocently says, “be careful Mama, don’t fall.”  Thank you T, thank you.}

Now, the ouchy moment.
Last week I was hustling around the house, trying to get the Suburban loaded for a trip to the big city. 
When I was carrying the big ice chest out, you guessed…funky foot, funky pants, funky fall.
This time it was just me and Jesus, so there was no embarrassment, but ouch! 
The cooler had broken my fall and I had broken the cooler {literally}.
I contemplated keeping this little episode between me and Jesus, but I brushed off and went in and told John Wayne the story with a laugh.
“Get rid of those damn pants,” was his logical response.

Well, here we are almost a week after the ouchy moment.
Each day since the incident, I’ve actually gotten sorer and sorer.
A trip to my chiropractor would probably do me well, but I’m so darn sore, the thought of being worked over makes me cringe.

So the moral of this post?
I’m not sure…???
I didn’t get rid of those “damn pants” so I guess the moral of it is, when you see me wearing them, please catch me.

6 comments:

Jennifer said...

I love your funky style....and what do they say beauty is pain? I'd say keep the pants!

Rachel said...

Whoops... ;)
Those are cute, and I'm sure you look awesome in them! Love your style, gal!

Tori said...

I love the pants! Surely you'll get used to them soon. If not, have them altered so the legs are so huge? I don't know...just an idea. Oh and thank goodness you aren't hurt too bad. :)

Jennifer said...

Too cute!!!

Penny Pfeiff said...

Some stories just need to be shared!!! If you can't laugh at yourself...well at least let the rest of us laugh at you...John Wayne sounds like a guy I know ;)

Amanda @ The Barstows: Our Little House on the {West Texas} Prairie said...

Haha! This was a great post to read- I haven't gotten any of those pants yet...yet. They are very funky, I'm not sure if I could pull them off but they do look comfy! Give it a couple more months...it takes me awhile to catch on to trends, I am just getting into the colored skinny jeans even though Wyatt says I look like a crayon, I can only imagine what he would say about me if I got some of those "damn pants" :)