The Devil's JeansA Story by Everchanging DisasterTrue Story...I slept in the nude last night. I had no intentions of seeing out the wee hours of the morning in such a vulnerable state, however I do not regret it. I do however regret these devil's jeans I melted and poured (as my grandma would have said) myself into this morning. Around five o'clock last night I realized that my entire house was spotless, with the exception of the now inactive volcano of clothing piled like dead bodies on the side of my bed. I stood there staring at it, loathing it with every fiber of my being. You see where others hate dishes, I hate waiting around for hours on end just to spend five minutes transferring a wet pile of laundry to the dryer, and then waiting again to be able to fold them. And speaking of the folding, is there a right or wrong way to do it, and if so how do you fold underwear? It annoys me, It makes me wish I could shoot myself in the head with a dissolving bullet that would disappear as soon as the "laundry ordeal" was done, leaving no damage. Unfortunately they were out of bullets at the "Loeva store" and so I suffered through three loads. Once I got to the whites I looked at my pale shirt and my fading sweats and decided it was about time for my shower anyway-so I tossed everything on my back into that crater, started the engine and I was off to the races-or the shower, whichever you prefer. I got out of the shower and dried off slowly trying desperately to consume more time than needed. I listened closely and realized that the steady hum of the washer was still harmonizing with the whiz of the air conditioner. I grabbed my book off the bureau and laid down on the crisp clean sheets of the bed waiting (impatiently) to be engulfed by silence and began to read: "Lisey found herself thinking of all the speaking engagements she'd gone to with Scott-" And then every word seemed to be a great weight perched upon my eyelids, my thoughts trailed off into another world like a dog chasing after a bird in flight, no way I was gonna catch those suckers! I awoke with my "hair towel" looking to have been strewn carelessly on my pillow. I laid there for a moment trying to remember the last time I felt that free, the last time I felt that I truly had no inhibitions and sadly could not remember. "I wish I could live in a nudist colony." I thought with a smile cracking across my lips. There no one would call me fat. I'm sure with all the people around that are bigger than me they would surely call me medium...or even healthy, but never fat. That adjective would be saved for those who would most certainly die at a young age of a heart attack. I arose from the bed and went to check on that heap of laundry I'd deserted for my dreams. Yep still there. Why can't anyone steal laundry, why are they so intent on stealing those new fangled (once again a grandma phrase) DVD and DVR combos and such? After taking the last load out of the dryer and scattering it across the kitchen table as if panning for gold I realized that every article of clothing I owned was now clean. Ah, what to wear? I looked at the clean black cardigan laying casually by my right hand, and remember thinking how it would look very classy with these black jeans I bought maybe a year ago and hadn't worn at all this year. I went to go grab them with the excitement of a three year old who just found a toy they had thought was broken. As I slipped them slowly over my knees and inched them up over my thighs I realized with bitter agony that they were almost skin tight, and I hadn't yet cleared my backside. I grabbed the back pockets with ferocious strength and yanked them the rest of the way up. I wiggled back and forth, rocking from side to side, tugging on first my right belt loop and then the left trying my hardest to steal some breathing room. Why did I choose this pair of pants you might ask. Why not change into something a bit more comfortable? Both very good questions with very stupid answers. When I was little I was one of those children who got dressed in the morning and pulled out every article of clothing to find what I left in. My grandma quickly remedied this by telling me that for everything I took out I had to put back...before I left. In case I didn't mention, the thing I hate most about doing laundry is folding it and putting it away, and this would be the reason. My silly ritual of changing clothes as many times as I changed my mind didn't last long, to say the least. And ever since I vowed that whatever I decided to wear first is what I wear all day, until I change for bed, this way I never have to put it away, I only need to discard it into my dirty clothes volcano. Walking out of the house I pooted (a grandpa word), and rather than skipping merrily out of my bottom, It got stuck there inside those skin tight devil jeans like a fly caught in a jar. I squeezed my cheeks together slowly until i heard a pop like that of confetti released from and all to small can. The drive to work was miserable, as well as the rest of the time I spent sitting in my chair with my stomach crying for mercy. And here I sit, still wearing my devil jeans and writing of how one wrong decision paired with one childish quirk can turn one perfect day into one hell of a nightmare. I'll tell you one thing, when I get off work, and I get home, I will be naked! © 2008 Everchanging DisasterFeatured Review
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Added on October 27, 2008Last Updated on October 28, 2008 AuthorEverchanging DisasterAboutThe names Loeva...as in (L0W)-[E]-{VAH} Well I am living at home. Which is probably one of the best places for me. I was into some pretty bad trouble about two years ago but I consider myself fully re.. more..Writing
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