So yesterday a colleague and I were heading out to the store to pick up something to nibble on during afternoon break. Before leaving the building we stopped at the toilets to do our respective business.
So I entered the bathroom, locked the door and reached for the pull on my zipper. It was at this point that all hell broke loose.
Three of the teeth on the left side of the zipper decided to liberate themselves from my jeans. As I pulled the tab down, I heard a rapid fire ‘ping, ping, ping’. With sinking dread I looked down at my now derailed and totally unfixable zipper.
Feck. In fact, double feck.
Thankfully I was wearing a long, loose top that covered the damage. After finishing my intended business, I exited the bathroom and met back up with my colleague. I told her my embarrassing predicament. Good friend that she is, she laughed at me outright and then dragged me to the store anyway where I proceeded to purchase a small bag of crisps and some Rolos. Because the obvious thing to do after busting out of your jeans is to consume 400 unhealthy calories in one sitting.
Fatty don’t like logic.
To be fair to myself, those jeans were over six years old and at the end of their life anyway. Still, it doesn’t make me feel any better. The last time I exercised was Monday night when I went for another seriously slow three miler. Perhaps my jeans were trying to tell me something. Like stop working so long at the office and MOVE YOUR FAT ASS.
That’s just a guess though.