You know what’s worse than pants?
Not a world without carbs, not sweating red in the beating sun, not even slow internet with a continuously turning circle of death and yet NOTHING LOADS.
Except maybe shopping for pants. I feel my heart shudder and my chest seize up when pant shopping becomes a necessity. As a short person, pants are even worse. They ALL come up to my belly button, and drag on the floor long over my ankles like I’m simultaneously a 12 year old and a middle-aged woman.
‘Beyonce Fucking Knowles. Beyonce doesn’t need pants to do shit. Do you think pants are going to stop Beyonce from running the fucking world?’ rants Matt Bellasai, my spirit animal, in his latest video.
‘Your face is streaked with dry tears and you don’t even remember when you started crying… all so you can squeeze into a piece of fabric that tells you how much fatter you were since the last time.’