I've given up pants.

Sometimes I have difficulty in making up my mind. Like any other woman.

Also like any other woman on the planet I have difficulty deciding to what to wear. Some days I could wear a burlap sack and be the sexiest thing to happen to burlap since potatoes or well, anything really. Other days I feel like I could wear Chanel and still the opossum/aardvark/armadillo roadkill would be more attractive than I.

And then there are days whence a girl just cannot make up her mind. No matter what she puts on, it just doesn't work. It's not hideous but it's not attractive. It just isn't 'it', it's not what you want nor is it going to be unless there is a shift in planetary motion or another violent mood swing. These are the days when I decide to just wear pants and clap my hands over my breasts and be done with it. I just drink all my beverages through a straw. It may seem tiring to you, standing there, elbows akimbo, all night covering your breasts but really it's not a problem. Actually it's quite comfortable. If you could ditch the pants you'd really...

This is what I've decided. No more. I'm throwing in the metaphorical towel and not wearing pants anymore either. But don't really throw away that towel. I'm going to need it to fashion a loincloth type skirt thing.

You know how I feel about bitches and their snatches hanging out. It's innappropriate.