Why I’m Apologizing to My Pants

So, I really never get sick.

The last time I was sick was a year ago.

Now, I’m sick again and the cause of my sickness is probably worse than the actual illness itself… Actually, I’m 100% sure that the cause is worse than the actual cold. Seriously, how I got sick is something that would only happen to me.

I’m sick because I was gassy…


You heard me.

I don’t know what it is, but recently I have been a gassy muther f*$#er. A real tooter-mcgee. And like, it’s really not okay.

Here’s the thing. It’s not even like I live alone. I live with other people. Real people with real noses. I can’t have them suffering just because my body decided it would be it’s own personal Chevron station.

So, on Thursday of last week I decided to do us all a favor and sleep with my window open. You know, to push that shit outta there or at least get some air flow.

Of course, when I woke up on Friday, my body was like, hahahaha jokes on you girl. Now you have a sore throat and you’re gonna be gassier than ever.

I’m not kidding about that.

I found myself in the bathroom at work that day looking down at my pants and actually apologizing to them. No, really. I was looking down at them, trying to stretch over my bloated FUPA, and I was just like, “I’m so sorry guys. You really shouldn’t be put through this stress. You weren’t made to fit this puffed-out marshmallow-man version of me.”

And, like, I really felt guilty about it. I was trying to think of ways I could make it up to them. I kept telling them in my head that it would all be over soon and I would shrink back down to my normal size and we could fit each other the right way again.

But, no. The gas continued and to make things worse I was coughing so that caused my pants have to stretch even more. Not to mention I had to go to work and look professional as I try to hold it all in.

And, as you can imagine, I was feeling prreeettttyyyy sexy meeting friends of a friend at a Giants game later on that evening. Bloated with a running nose? Check. (None of this stopped me from wolfing down a hot dog at the game, which is pretty worrisome in retrospect).