Lose 5 Pant Sizes the Easy Way!

Our oldest daughter came home from college for a visit today, and my husband suggested we go to our neighborhood Mexican food restaurant for happy hour. I work in scrubs so asked them to give me a few minutes to change my clothes. I ran into my closet and grabbed a tunic top and my favorite (and only) pair of denim
capris. 


When I took the capris from the hanger, I immediately knew there was a problem; someone had washed and DRIED my pants. I never dry my pants, it causes shrinkage that, frankly I can’t afford. With my husband yelling to hurry up, I pulled on my pants. And let me tell you, it was no small feat. I wrestled those bad boys up my legs and cursed my husband, as he was the likely dryer culprit. When I finally got them on I was horrified to realize they would barely button. 
Now I’m no skinny Minnie, and I know that I haven’t been as mindful of my food intake and energy output as I should be, but this was ridiculous. How had I gained so much weight since the last time I’d worn these pants? Even accounting for shrinkage, the flesh to material ratio was not even in the same ballpark. 
They’re stretchy jeans, and I can attest to the integrity of the material. While it felt like it might blow, the fabric held while I performed deep knee bends, lunges, and a few leg hikes to try and stretch them out. But even with my jean clad calisthenics, I was forced to use the rubber band trick. You know where you hook one end of the rubber band to the button of your pants, stick it through the button-hole and then loop the other end around the button, giving you another inch or so of comfort. That seemed to do the trick and off we went to happy hour. 

At a Mexican food restaurant.

Eating chips & salsa.

Drinking margaritas. 

No wonder my pants wouldn’t button. The conversation was great, the chips, salsa, and margaritas were delicious, but I could barely enjoy them with my pants cutting off the circulation to my lower extremities. At one point I actually did the one cheek on the chair sit/standing combo. (We were on barstools so that made this move easier) I’d hoped to create more blood flow with the position readjustment. Unfortunately, it didn’t work, and the lower half of my body went numb. 
The whole time I kept running my caloric intake for the last week through my head. I just couldn’t make the numbers work. There was no way I could’ve gained this much weight, right?

When we returned home, I made a bee line for my closet, which was no easy feat, as I had to walk stiff legged get there. As I was manhandling the pants down my legs, I spotted MY JEAN CAPRIS hanging in the closet. I looked at the tag of the pants I was wearing, but I didn’t have my reading glasses and couldn’t read the tag. (There is no end to my humiliation) Laughing hysterically, I called my daughter into my room, but really there was no need, she and my husband were already running to the scene of what they were sure was a terrible accident because my laughter was so high pitched and uncontrollable, they thought I was wailing and crying.
I thrust the pants at my daughter and asked her what size they were. When she read the number, I lost it again. Fits of giggles and snorts rolled over me. Turns out they were my other daughter’s denim capris that had been put into my closet by accident and I had somehow managed to stuff my body into her pants that were 5 sizes too small! 

After I stopped laughing: 
I immediately thanked the Lord that I had not gained a ton of weight.
I vowed to never again get dressed without my reading glasses.
I determined to call NASA and recommend they use the material of the pants in the construction of any further space craft, because that stuff is indestructible.

Dillon Larberg