Today at work I sat down and ripped the zipper clean out of my pants.
That totally happened.
Now never you mind that these particular pants are at least 5 years old, are my favorite black ones, and have been worn and washed at least once per week since I bought them.
We also should not take into consideration that the hems on both legs have fallen out more than once, and have been repaired, and even now the left one is being held on by safety pins because I just haven’t had the time to get the sewing machine out.
It’s irrelevant that all of the buttons on them are not the originals, as over time they’ve fallen off and needed to be replaced.
None of that matters.
Because right now I’m focused the fact that my fat ass sad down and RIPPED THE EFFING ZIPPER OUT OF MY PANTS people.
I’m never eating again.