I can't wear white pants. It isn't because I have a big beautiful butt or anything that wonderful (I'm pretty much concave back there) it is because of something so wrong: I'm a clutz. I'm pretty sure I have owned one pair of white pants, they were way back in the day and they were jeans... straight leg. You know what I'm talking about baggy at the hips and somehow despite being "straight legs" tight around the ankles. It could have been God stopping the tragedy that was those pants but within a few minutes of leaving the house in those wonderfully awful pair of white pants I sat on chocolate... Like a whole bar of chocolate.
It's like if you wear a white top you end up eating something with red sauce/juice. Well... that's me all the time. The sad thing is I was a really graceful child... then puberty came and wrecked it all. I was one of those 6th graders that towered over all the rest of the class... you know shot up way too many inches too quickly... never was able to get back the small reign of grace I had as a child. Now I make not qualms, I pretty much should keep a bib with me at all times (reasons I love lobster... ).
It's like if you wear a white top you end up eating something with red sauce/juice. Well... that's me all the time. The sad thing is I was a really graceful child... then puberty came and wrecked it all. I was one of those 6th graders that towered over all the rest of the class... you know shot up way too many inches too quickly... never was able to get back the small reign of grace I had as a child. Now I make not qualms, I pretty much should keep a bib with me at all times (reasons I love lobster... ).
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