The Curse Of The Pink Pantser

See these pants? I hate them. I loathe them. I abhor them. I despise them. I rue the day they were ever cobbled into existence from Pebto-Bismol stained fabric. To be fair they're not even really pants. No, they're so much worse because they're actually a blindingly pink pair of CLAMDIGGERS masquerading as pants!

Why do I even own such a wrinkly testament to the power of Fug? I'm not sure of all the minute details surrounding the inexplicable purchase but the evidence shows that the frugal side of me passed by the clearance rack at the store, spied the $1.50 price tag on these wretched pants and immediately hatched a plan.

My frugal side chloroformed and tied up the mini-What Not To Wear fashionista that also lives in me in an effort to subdue its small voice of reason so that Miss Frugality Run Amok could then wreak havoc in cheapo pants inspired by the color of pink vomit. That is the only possible explanation.

I try to avoid clothes that stand out at all costs. Owning a pair of clamdiggers that would color match the wadded up bubblegum stuck up underneath a park bench is not the way to blend into a crowd. Everytime I wear these hideous pants I half expect a kindly old lady to comment to me that they remind her of her long-gone beloved Pink Poodle, FooFee.

You know how you have clothes stuffed into the back of your drawer/closet/bureau that's reserved for your worst case clothing scenario option only? Yeah, my pink pants should really be housed in a sealed glass box mounted on the wall with a little mallet hanging alongside it and a note that reads:In Case Of Extreme Laundry Emergency- Break Glass.

I had such a laundry emergency day recently as I hadn't any other alternatives available to me other than wearing the Mary Kay clamdiggers de doom. No lifelines left, no dramatic music, no friends to call, no multiple choice......no, donning the pink pants and transforming myself into the ultimate non-superhero, The Pink Pantser was my final answer.

My mini-Infidels understand my deep and abiding pink pants hatred. When they saw me with them on a few days ago, they started laughing. My second oldest daughter, Monkey commented "Ooooh, it looks like it's The Return Of The Pink Pantser." To which I coolly strolled past her in my crusty cotton clamdiggers and remarked that yes it indeed it was the return of The Pink Pantser......and then I turned around and pounced on her while screeching "It's the Revenge Of The Pink Pantser, fool because The Pink Pantser will always strike again when you least expect it."

Well, I guess the drawstring on the pants could be used to tie up mortal enemies of The Pink Pantser in a pinch but mainly my fight-winning strategy is watching my foe fall over, completely paralyzed from laughing so hard when they see me strutting about in my Pink Pantser costume.