My trousers guilted me into going to the gym by commiting suicide

I love my clothes. And my clothes love me.
Not only do they keep me warm in these chill­ing win­tery times and do they pro­vide  a cover up for  my more unsightly body parts, they are also very thought­ful and obvi­ously con­cerned for my wellbeing.

How so you ask ? How can a life­less item show con­cern for its own­ers well­be­ing? Clothes are not liv­ing, breath­ing things, unless you are some kind of Cruella Devil-type of per­son who hap­pens to care enough for the dog­gies to let them live and just ele­gantly drapes one or two over her shoul­ders by way of a fur wrap.

Or if you are Lady Gaga. I con­fess that I haven’t seen every wacky out­fit she wears – because with all those wardrobe changes, who has the time to keep up – but I bet she wore some­thing liv­ing and breath­ing as part of her cos­tume du jour once. If she hasn’t done it yet : Madame Gaga, please credit me when peo­ple ask you were you got the idea to wear a live kit­ten by way of a tiara.

But back to the love my clothes bear me.

As we all know Jan­u­ary is a bit of a heavy month in the social gath­er­ing area. This is only nat­ural. Nobody is debat­ing the need to cel­e­brate the New Year and the fact that we sur­vived the old one. And of course there is food and drink, you don’t invite peo­ple over and don’t offer them some refresh­ment. This would be beyond rude. And in case you are won­der­ing: yes it is equally impo­lite NOT to eat the offered food and refuse a drink. It does not nec­es­sary have to be alco­holic, we are very open minded about what peo­ple drink, but go to a party = drink some­thing, even if it is only a diet coke.

All this eat­ing and drink­ing has on slight down­side to it. It takes up so much of your time that you are left with lit­tle or no time to go to the gym.

And there is where my new trousers came to the res­cue. They chose to sac­ri­fice them­selves for my well­be­ing. Seam after seam burst just so that I would remem­ber that it had indeed been quite a while since I last had some alone – time with a treadmill.

It would be a dis­honor to my trouser’s mem­ory if I did not already have my gym bag packed and stocked my refrig­er­a­tor with healthy food options.

I will for­ever be grate­ful to my trousers self-sacrifice and promise to be a good girl and attend the gym at least once a week.

But I only wish they did not choose to kill them­selves at the office right before my lunch break and on the day I wore a thong.

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