I had a friend in college who insisted on extolling the virtues of exfoliating her buttocks in the shower each day. After she went on and on about it a few times too many, I decided to pantomime what I imagined her routine looked like, in a dance I called, the Shiney Hiney.
This morning I thanked that dear old friend over and over. Allow me to explain…
I love Yoga pants. To me they are the classy way of saying, “I’ll not be getting dressed today.” I wear them around the house every chance I get. But I also have a couple of rouge stragglers from my “velvet pajamapants” lounge wear days. Particularly a burgundy velvet number I’ve rocked around the house since the year 2000. If I had an MVP of velvet pajama pants, these would be it…classy, luxurious and most importantly, comfortable: these babies have seen it all.
From the “running to the bathroom to fart” days as a newlywed, to my water that broke while I was wearing them, this pair of burgundy velvet pants has witnessed it all.
A few weeks ago, I noticed that the waistband in them was more loose than normal. First I patted myself on the back, thinking I had dropped a few lbs…but as I felt the waistband further degrade, it became apparent, the time to retire the pants was upon us.
I broke the news to Lover fo’ Life, he let out a sigh of relief. He’s been throwing them shade since I tore a hole in the left leg a few years back. “Well, they had a good run.”
In the weeks since I have “padded the cell,” and dawdled in saying goodbye to my old friend, the burgundy velvet pants. They have lasted a few days (indoors only) but often slip down to the ground the moment I raise my arms to do anything.
Which brings me to this morning.
Today was garbage pickup day. We had a veritable Mount St. Garbage to be hauled out, and thanks to Angry Baby’s nite time shenanigans, L4L and I slept in until 6:15. The Garbage dudes normally come at 6:30 on Fridays. They were early this morning.
As we heard the garbage men on the street before ours, we sprang into action, I grabbed the closest clothing I could find and threw it on.
A black top and…the pants. My velvet burgundy pants.
L4L and I scrambled and got every last bit of refuse out just in time. As we walked across the front yard, the garbage men approached. Ever the braggart looking to celebrate victory in any faction, I foolishly “raised the roof,” began dancing, and tempted the fates a little too much.
Suddenly, in the light of the rising sun, for the neighbors to witness and starring in every garbage man’s fantasy…was my shiney hiney. The pants fell and more than a peek of my cheeks was sneaked.
What’s worse is I decided to abandon my mission to retrieve the fallen trousers, because there was NO WAY I was gonna give everyone a view of the “GRAND FINALE,” if you know what I mean. So I decided to pull the black tunic top over my buns and awkwardly walk the 16 steps of humiliated into the safety of inside the house. The very house that is used to seeing me make a fool of myself through nudity.
To my college friend, you know who you are…I thank you for converting me to the EXFOLIATING side. Because this morning, when I was in all of my backside glory in my front yard, I was never more grateful for a beauty tip.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go turn my old friend, Burgundy Velvet, into dusting rags. By ripping him to shreds.