Vice Grip

I've been lazy about laundry.  I have two pairs of pants I wear to work.  Actually I have one pair of black slacks and a pair of jeans.  I'm currently working in a biological lab, so my legs have to be covered due to hazardous chemicals and the potential to be infected by blood borne pathogens.  Please don't even ask about the safety training-I'm surprised I don't have to come to work in a Hazmat suit (and I thought wearing pants during the summer in North Carolina was torture!).  I realize this makes my job sound adventurous, but just do me a favor and shake that Indiana Jones theme song right out of your head for now (but feel free to resume if something exciting really does happen).

Back to my dirty pants, by the end of the week my pants can usually go a couple of rounds with Manny Pacquiao by themselves.  It just so happens that this weekend I was too busy being lazy by the pool and hanging out with my cool nephews to do laundry so those pants just sat there and, well, festered.  So yesterday I wore the slacks and hoped bystanders couldn't smell me coming.  Today I just couldn't, in all consciousness, subject the public to my rank jeans.  A note on my jeans, the back pockets are bedazzled.  Don't laugh.  I know I'm 35, but some well placed rhinestones/sequins never really go out of style.  If you're dialing the Fashion Police as you read this, put the phone down and hear me out here.  I wore holes in my other jeans and my bedazzled pair were only $20 at Ross Dress for Less.  I'd bet you'd commit fashion treason for a much less worthy and practical cause.

This morning I woke up in a quandary, since the jeans AND the slacks were a no-go, do I wear my jeans with holes in them or a skirt?  Now, I should impress upon your minds the delicacy of the situation.  This could very well may be my last internship at Duke University, and believe it or not, I work very hard to make a good impression.  You're thinking "bedazzled jeans do not equal good impression."  Rest assured, I only wear them with a collared button-down, of which I have a few.  Do I have to take that phone away from you?!  But truly, the reasons I strive to make a good impression are as follows:

1. I just graduated with a BS in chemistry from a HBCU (Historically Black College or University), and I want to make sure my school's image is one of excellence and that my alma mater is not seen as providing an inferior education or producing below par graduates, especially by the likes of THE Duke University (aka whities r us).  Think of it as pride from below.
2. I'm working in the Department of Obstetrics & Gynecology of the medical school and as I am interested in medicine as a career, I hope to get a stellar letter of rec out of this that will catapult me onto the front lines of potential candidates for medical school.
3. Lastly, I got this position because my physical chemistry teacher recommended me and I would not like to sully her reputation or her name.  

So I decided to go with an older pair of black slacks I brought with me to North Carolina nearly four years ago.  Did I forget to mention that I weighed ~50lbs less back then?  I want you to play around with the logistics of that for a moment.  Somehow I squeezed myself into these slacks, but given the situation I'd like to refer to them as a tourniquet for the lower half of my body.  By 3 o'clock I knew I would never make it to 6.   I felt like I was in a medieval torture device.  I texted my sister telling her I couldn't breathe.  She has three boys and is breastfeeding a newborn.  She wasn't sympathetic.  These pants were so tight they were changing my genetic code.  I had to survive.  If I did, I would probably create a whole new species of people that can endure extreme discomfort for unimaginable periods of time-oh wait they already exist, they're called ultra-marathoners.

You will be glad to know I made it to 6pm with nary a button unloosed, and through the ride home, and through the walk from the car to my apartment door.  Then WHEW!  When I undid those buttons and that zipper I felt like everything was right in the world.  My mid-section has never suffered more and I almost swore to wear workout pants everyday for the rest of my life.  There is that letter of rec, though.