I’m sorry, but that’s so totally not right.
You regular readers know I’ve been working hard at keeping my body from turning into a 50-year-old (plus) leisure man’s body. I’ve been exercising, working out, improving my posture, playing tennis, eating right (okay, okay, eating better). So there’s just no call for what just happened.
Yeah, I know me and buttons have a history (see “Buttons and Socks” under the “Clothing” category for details), but this is way out of line. Let me explain.
I’m sitting down at my computer yesterday, planning on doing a little typing. I lean back for a moment, take a deep breath and as I lean forward again…pop! The button to my shorts snaps. Not all the way, mind you, just about half the thread and enough to free itself from its button-hole.
Now, granted, I probably should have conceded that 30-waist shorts are a thing of the past for me. Based upon my jeans, it would appear I’m somewhere south of 32 but further north of 30. So, yeah, maybe it’s stretching (pun alert) it a bit to slip on the 30’s, but it’s not like I have to suck in the gut to do it (hey, I don’t even have a gut)!
I think it was a mean and spiteful attempt by my button to create shame or embarrassment where I shouldn’t feel any. The feud that had been on simmer between me and buttons has now escalated again to broil. Buttons are just not my friends.
Now I have to head out to Wal-Mart to get color-appropriate thread (yeah, like you keep olive-green thread on hand, either?); just another evil prank among the myriad of devilry that buttons have played on my life.
Huh. I need to settle down a bit. Can’t let them get to me. I just need to take a moment, lean back and take a breath.
Just not a deep one.