Whoever invented low-waisted pants hates women. Ok, maybe he/she doesn't hate the TWO of you out there in the world who are size 0's and can wear clothes designed to look good on clothes hangers, but for real size women with the big butts of which rap songs glorify, low-waisted pants are instruments of torture.
I am a fan of mom jeans. I don't care if they are considered tacky or unfashionable by the people who can afford personal trainers, personal chefs and spend lots of money to buy bottles of AIR. Give me a pair of jeans or pants that cover my chubby cheeks and wrap lovingly around my waist where my waist actually sits on my body and I am happy.
Several years ago I spent a decent amount of money on a simple pair of black pants. I tried them on and noticed they were a little low-waisted, but I thought they still fit nicely enough to purchase. But then I washed them once and suddenly they were just a little uncomfortable. Then I gained several thousand pounds and those pants got shoved back into the deepest recesses of my closet. I actually forgot about them until last month when I pulled out my clothes from my lesser me days.
I tried them on just to see if they fit again and they did. I was so excited I hung them up in my closet, not really planning on wearing them for an all day occasion, but maybe for an hour of church or such. I have lost so much weight most of my clothes are too big and I can't afford to replace them as fast as they outgrow me and they are nice looking dress pants.
Fast forward to today. I washed my work pants last night but forgot to put them in the dryer. I didn't know I had forgotten to put them in the dryer until I was packing my bag for after my workout. Every morning I drop E off at school, head to the gym and shower there before I head to work. I had no other pants to pack but the low-waisted black pants. And I would have no time to run home to exchange the pants because I was taking my school kids on a field trip today. It was those pants or nothing.
Let me tell you, I spent the entire day wiggling, re-situating, picking and pulling at the God Awful Pants. They just wouldn't sit right. They fit, in a way. They just didn't lay correctly. I felt like a toddler, irritable and surly because something was just not right. I picked up E and she asked me how my day was and the only thing I could say was, "I HATE THESE PANTS!" She just shook her head and laughed at me. She has learned to live with all my sensory disorder issues.
I pulled into my garage and didn't even wait for my garage door to close before I stripped off the pants and threw them in the wash. I'm sure the church members who live across the street saw more of their pastor's wife then they EVER wanted to but I just couldn't take it one more minute. I wanted to throw them away, but I hate being wasteful so I am going to donate those pants to Goodwill and condemn some other poor pudgy shmuck to a day of low-rider hell.