i dont think i own a pair of jeans anymore that havent been slaughtered by scissors. these violent acts of aggression toward my jeans simply reflect the personal vendetta i have against denim. its the fabric that speaks the harsh truth even when youre not in the mood to hear what it has to say.
an example to clarify:
i wake up on a sunday afternoon from a restless slumber, the moment i stand i realize its the time of the month when my ovaries are selfishly begging for attention. so much so that they decide to torture me with nausea, bloating, tyrannical bowel movements, involuntary emotions, and an extra load of laundry. being a lethargic bum, i usually bypass these inflictions of pain until the very last minute. so instead of acting promptly and pampering my ovaries with insulating sweat pants, i test them and slip into a pair of jeans [pretty much an act of masochism]. then when i try to fasten the jeans around my waist, the denim wont stretch far enough for me to button my pants!! the leading cause being that im far to bloated due to the sudden change in hormone levels. so in this instance of denim malfunctions, my jeans are telling me:
1) listen to your damn ovaries and slip into a pair of sweats
2) you have to stop pretending that you will fit into a pair of jeans when you look like a potbellied monkey! (pictured below)
its easy to understand from the previous example that denim is demonic. sure, its only fabric, but when it has oppressive psychological power over your well-being, it must be condemned. therefore, the slashing of my jeans is absolutely justified. if you feel this way about your jeans, give them a cut here and there, im telling you its liberating!
keep it swaggy friends.
Peace & Love,
Gi
an example to clarify:
i wake up on a sunday afternoon from a restless slumber, the moment i stand i realize its the time of the month when my ovaries are selfishly begging for attention. so much so that they decide to torture me with nausea, bloating, tyrannical bowel movements, involuntary emotions, and an extra load of laundry. being a lethargic bum, i usually bypass these inflictions of pain until the very last minute. so instead of acting promptly and pampering my ovaries with insulating sweat pants, i test them and slip into a pair of jeans [pretty much an act of masochism]. then when i try to fasten the jeans around my waist, the denim wont stretch far enough for me to button my pants!! the leading cause being that im far to bloated due to the sudden change in hormone levels. so in this instance of denim malfunctions, my jeans are telling me:
1) listen to your damn ovaries and slip into a pair of sweats
2) you have to stop pretending that you will fit into a pair of jeans when you look like a potbellied monkey! (pictured below)
its easy to understand from the previous example that denim is demonic. sure, its only fabric, but when it has oppressive psychological power over your well-being, it must be condemned. therefore, the slashing of my jeans is absolutely justified. if you feel this way about your jeans, give them a cut here and there, im telling you its liberating!
keep it swaggy friends.
Peace & Love,
Gi