Leather Pants

So…one time, I was in a department store dressing room trying on fitted leather pants. It was back in the day when the lowest of low rise waistbands were in, and we were all “Britney-Spearsing” our wardrobes. In my effort to be pop-star-chic, I slid into a black pair of leather, zipper-on the-side-almost-leggings. They were sleek and fit like a glove.

I must admit, the pants looked great...standing up. But they had yet to pass the “crack test” (You know what that is, right?) I mean, at some point, I was going to have to sit down in the pants, and without the crack test, the following scenario would certainly ensue:

*cue hotel bar music* I walk to the bar looking chic in my new leather pants, smiling at the few heads, turned to give me the nod of approval. I approach the barstool, ready to order a French 75. I hop up onto the stool, when the leather, stuck to my lotioned legs (because I had no time to baby-powder them) grips my kneecaps, pulling the back of my fashionable new pants down, exposing my ass-crack for all the world to see— a clear invitation for onlookers to toss popcorn into the cavern. . Quelle horreur! *end scene*

BUT this is not my point!

Back in the dressing room, I’m ready to test the pants. So, ever so quickly, I squat. I squat… and the pants POP! The chic leather pants, somehow filled with air and popped, loudly, like a big leather balloon!

I froze, trying to process what just happened, waiting for someone to ask me if I was OK, waiting for the saleslady to enter, demanding me to pay for the pants, waiting for some kind of leather-pant-popping-defacement-alarm to go off.

But, no one heard nor entered, and it took forever to peel off those god-forsaken pants, burst at the crotch. I did not put them back on the hanger, I did not alert a store employee…I mean, how could I?

I just left them in the dressing room, threw on my head scarf and huge sunglasses, and beelined out of there, hoping no one heard a thing.