See, what I needed Wednesday with my accidentally low-slung drawstring pants was (1) abs like Britney or (2) ... Actually, (1) is safest in this instance.
(pronounced "LAN-yap" -- or "lan-YAP," whatever):
noun1. In southern Louisiana and Mississippi, a little somethin' somethin' extra, traditionally like a gift given with purchase -- a sweet gesture, bonus.
2. In Oklahoma, at least in Jason Ashleyville, it's another word for random -- typically, a collection of such ramblings, often without much point or segue.
I share this in case y'all wonder again what "that L word" is, as I'll be posting the occasional LAGNIAPPE on my blog -- like today's topic, which is actually more of an apology.
First, let's start at Old Navy. Banshee's husband, Mr. Clean, lucked upon some awesome linen drawstring pants on sale and bought two for me. Love 'em, they're comfortable, go with anything, blah, blah, blah.
Even though I washed the suckers in cold water, dried them on low heat and finished drying by hanging them on racks under a ceiling fan, they STILL shrank a smidge. Either that, or I've grown an inch or two taller, which is highly unlikely.
Whatever, still love 'em -- or, at least, I did until Wednesday. All day, I fidgeted with the drawstring, which I tied tightly right below my waist. Everything was covered, I assume, because I felt the tourniquet-like cinch of the drawstrings.
Well, turns out, upon inspection in a mirror at day's end, that I was walking around for Lord know's how long with at least one inch -- minimum -- of my stomach poking out between the drawstring waist and a blue polo shirt, which I've since tossed in the trash for being too freakin' short.
Obviously, if I was thinner, this wouldn't be a problem. But I loathe the thought of having traipsed around the office, grocery store and gas station looking like some gay version of Cleatus -- Cleatus being some belly-hangin' hillbilly who goes around flashing his stomach. And only his stomach, thank you. I assume we all have the same definition of Cleatus, right? Does the name Tweedle Cleatus prompt a sharper, albeit more disturbing image? Sorry, I'm drawing a blank at coming up with popular characters who bare their midriffs. Other than Britney Spears, circa 2004.
Anyway, I apologize to anyone with the misfortune of having seen me Wednesday, especially at lunch. Next time, I'll wear a caftan with my pants or, as would probably be more fitting, a trench coat.
Peace, love and drawstrings ... XOXO
