In yesterday’s thrilling installment, a desperate woman stopped on the way home from school, left the kids in the car, and dashed into Walmart to buy a pair of jeans without even trying them on, because they couldn’t possibly fit worse than what she had on already.
She drove home, dropped off the kids, threw on the jeans, ripped off the tags, and went back out to pick up the other kids from catechism, pausing only to wonder why that one dad in the church basement suddenly seemed kind of interested. Hey hey, these jeans must fit pretty well after all! Looks like this postpartum mama’s still got it!
But no. What this mama had got was what the fashion industry calls A Sticker On the Butt.
A nice big sticker, too. “Holds its shape” indeed.
Not as bad as the time I went to Mass with the family and discovered much, much later that the folks in the pew behind us had something amazing to ponder. Some child had decorated my behind with a sticker from the WIC office. It was a bug-eyed, grinning strawberry (like this), framed with the words “RIPE AND READY!”
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And they’re thinking, “Okay, you’re open to life, we get it . . . ”
I know my audience, and I know you guys have stories. What did you not realize was on your ass?
