Tuesday, August 3, 2010

down with pants!

okay, so i was catching up on my blog list today, and thanks to annah over at red means go (http://www.whenredmeansgo.com/) who posted some pantless photos today...

go ahead. i'll wait while you check them out. and follow her, to help her get famosity, or she will eat kittens.

now that i have regained your attention, her blog about being pantless in your own house (which, correct me if i'm wrong, should be a god/s given inalienable right) reminded me about the trying issue of claustrophobic thighs.

this is when you have your pants on, like at work or when you're shopping, or maybe just hanging around the house. and you realize that your thighs are claustrophobic - your pants are all tight and pants-y around your thighs. and your thighs are all agitated and irritated and angry.

like when you are stuck in line behind someone at the grocery store, in the 10 items or less line. and they have like 14 or 15 items. i mean, you can forgive 11 or 12, but they're pushing it. and not only are the in the express line with too many items, but the get all impatient and do that sighing thing that some of us do to let you know we're annoyed with someone. and then they start making comments about how the cashier is slow, or the person paying with a credit card who takes four extra seconds to sign their slip, or gets all huffy when the front end manager comes over with singles for the cashier.

and you get that feeling. it's kind of tingly and tight. like you're a spring that's being more tightly coiled. maybe it's the feeling of having your braces tightened. or really bad gas. i'm not sure. it's an agitated, anxious, angry, abomination of a feeling.

you get through it, and you go home with your less-than-10-items (i know you weren't in that lane against the unspoken rules of the supermarket). you put the groceries away, maybe feed the cat or pour a cup of soda or glass of wine. and you go to sit on the couch, and turn on the game.

and then. your thighs. if you're wearing any pants that are not really comfy and super stretchy, you notice that your jeans or trousers or whatever feel a bit.... snug across the top of your mid-thigh. strange. but then you realize that it's not just the top of your thigh - it's all the way around, like there's an invisible ace bandage being wrapped around it. so you stand up and adjust your pants, like pulling the legs up a bit to give your crotch and thighs more wiggle room. or you adjust your trouser snake addendums if you have them. or you pick the nonexistent wedgie that you think is causing the problem.

and you sit back down. and it's even worse. like if you could scratch the fabric off your thighs, you would, and you might take off a layer of skin or ten while you're at it.

this is claustrophobic thighs: when you feel like you may have to fuck something up if you can't take your pants off. so you have to take your pants off. depending on the level of claustrophobia, you may not be able to put any other pants on in lieu of the jeans or trousers you're already wearing - super stretchy may not cut it. you may need to walk around in your tee shirt and panties for the rest of the night.

and so what if the windows are open and the neighbors can see? who the fuck are they looking in your windows?!? i walk around in my underwear more than i care to admit, due mainly to thigh claustrophobia. awesome husband gives me a strange look sometimes, since the windows and patio doors are open, but i figure that my panties and a tee shirt covers more than my bathing suit does, and i wander around outside drunk in my bathing suit... so fuck that. my thighs are more important.

i just hope the claustrophobia doesn't spread further. it's bad enough i get nervous in elevators and tunnels, especially the last tunnel in the rock 'n roller coaster at disney hollywood studios (i live in almost perpetual fear of being stranded in that tunnel again. our coaster train stopped there once for like two minutes once, and i nearly lost it).

i can't imagine what i would do if i ended up with boob claustrophobia. my mom would never come out of her room again.

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