i need pants.

If God loved me he'd send me these pants.

And if he really liked me he'd send them in a size 6, and he'd shrink my ass so I could actually fit into them.

2004 is about seven weeks old and it's not getting easier to live within my means. I thought it would take about 6 weeks to feel like this new fiscal responsibility was fitting me. I thought it couldn't be harder than taking on motherhood, which took about six weeks to fit.

This new way of life is fitting me about as well as a pair of size 6 pants would.

Comments

[Helene]

Me too! I'd like a pair of size 6 pants also. Perhaps the site of 'em would keep me from eating all this @#$% valentine candy the kids brought home last week.

[Emily]

I tried those on last week Melissa!!Comfort yourself in the fact that they look better on the rack than on...well on me at least!lol

[Michelle]

Thanks a lot, Melissa. Now *I* need those pants, too. Actually, if we're talking size 6, I'd bettter buy TWO pairs - one for each thigh. Sigh.

Thou shalt not charge. Thou shalt not charge. Thou shalt not charge...

Michelle

[Debbie]

Black pants, my dear. God's doing you a favor not sending you the pink ones.

[Sara]

Oh Debbie, I beg to differ.

All black pants makes for a very dull, very mom-like (in an unflattering sense of the term) wardrobe.

Break out of your comfort zone for the love of God.

[The Sarcastic Journalist Journalist]

Me likey

[beerzie boy]

it's kind of har to tell, but it looks like they make your butt look big.

[alyssa]

gotta say, i dont like those pants.

my suggestion: SAVE the money to buy a really fun pair of hawaiin floral motif capris for the spring. they are very good at camo-ing a case of the big booty. (which I doubt you really really have). I distinctly remember you saying last summer that at this point, 'its all about capris'.

as far as the financial owie. i am floating in the boat with you. week 7 sucks as much ass as week one did. i have FORGOTTEN what beer tastes like or what going out somewhere fun with the kids that costs money feels like. but i have not forgotten the thrill of shopping. esp. for cute clothes.

[Michelle]

I agree....no more black pants. I have ONE really cute pair of red pants that I adore. Obviously I can't wear them ALL the time (I just feel silly scrubbing down toilets in red pants and a tiny black Gap t-shirt), but when I do I feel like the hippest mom in town. Wait...I think I AM the hippest mom...in THIS town anyway.

Chin up, Melissa...wait it out a few more weeks and you can probably get them on clearance. OR spend the grocery money on a pair in size 6, then you'll be able to fit in them because you'll have lost weight from not eating because you spent the grocery money on the pink pants. Wow...sometimes my cleverness and problem solving abilities astound even me. Why didn't YOU think of that one, Melissa?

[Melissa]

Alyssa: my ass will never have any form of floral anywhere near it.

Michelle: yes! also, not buying food for my family will make the children stop growing so we won't need to buy them any clothes either! Let's run for president, k?

[Lil' Sis]

honey, didn't you just give me those pants, like a month ago? they were in khaki, but you also gave me a red sweater that you could have washed them with to create the pink...
my budgeting technique tends towards not getting haircuts EVER, not paying the house phone bill (but the cellphone gets paid- i'm not CRAZY!) and inheriting clothing from people who can gain weight in a normal manner because they get to eat real food. And then I blow all that savings on my dear friend, the Captain & his little friend Coke, because I am depressed that I can't check my email, i hemmed my "new" skirt too short and my hair is an insanely pathetic mess.
don't ever let me reproduce.

miao.

[Melissa]

Uh...what size were those pants I gave you? I think I gave you the wrong ones. Call me before I leave tomorrow!

I can't find the cropped khaki pants that did actually fit me.

[Robin]

Give it 3 months. The first 6 weeks just feels like a really long, bad vacation. At the 8 week mark, when no one is calling or emailing or faxing you anymore, reality begins to creep in. Then you're looking for adult conversation wherever it may find you: at the grocery store, at the mailbox, when the Orkin man visits. By three months, you have the regularly scheduled bloody Mary playdates firmly in place, and it begins to fit like a size 6 pair of pants should.