Don't judge me by my pants

Ughh. Ever have one of those mornings where you leave the house knowingly making a bad clothing choice? Only since you're still in your morning grogginess mode, you tell yourself that you don't really care? Until you get a little ways down the road and see yourself in natural light, and then you do care but it's too late to turn around and go back? Or worse, you don't see the true hideousness of your outfit until you're under the flourescent lights at work? Oh, of course you don't. But I do.

I'm stuck in that clothing limbo right now. While it's becoming more and more apparent that I need to buy some new clothes that are ahem, a bit larger; I'm still giving myself this shred of hope that my fattiness is only temporary and I'll soon be fitting into my old clothes. Then again, my old clothes aren't worth much of a shit and are mostly clearance rack items anyway, so I don't know why it matters. Guhh.

So I've got these "nice" gray pants on with a very thin, subtle pink stripe in them that I haven't even owned for very long. They have a winning combination of being a tad tight around the waist along with being too short (I also have a knack for shrinking pants in the dryer.) So, I yank them down a bit to cover my glaringly ridiculous light pink socks (with black shoes, thus giving me that good ol 80s Michael Jackson look) and then with pants sitting at hip level, it's "hello there, belly flab!" Which might not be that noticable if I didn't also have a thin, ill-fitting pink sweater on (which, it turns out - is the wrong shade of pink to wear with these pants anyway.)

Please, just avert your eyes if I have to walk past you, okay?