When summer comes to a close, and fall is subtly dropping hints about its arrival, the time for pants shopping is upon us. While such an undertaking is a necessary evil, that does not negate the fact that it is still, in fact, evil.
Here are just a few reasons that the process of shopping for pants and jeans is both excruciating and exhausting — not to mention nerve-wracking:
Related-ish: Here Is The Only Pants Hack You’ll Ever Need
“Sizes” are figments of everyone’s imagination.
When you wander near the intimidating clothing section which houses all jeans/pants/unflattering leg coverings, you will inevitably face a barrage of numbers. From “US 6” to “UK 8” to an “EU 38,” these numbers are utterly mystifying, and make it impossible for you to determine where your ass falls on the hypothetical Pants Spectrum. So, you’re forced to grab ALL of the pants and haul them to the dressing room, because HOW ELSE ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO FIGURE IT OUT?? DON’T TELL ME I CAN ONLY BRING TEN ITEMS IN HERE, I’M HAVING AN IDENTITY CRISIS.
Because butts only exist to make things difficult.
The pants are halfway up your thighs, and you feel that telltale sinking in your stomach that says “And now we have reached the Butt Portion of the dressing room experience.” You will attempt to tug the pants up, in a vain and optimistic attempt to prove yourself wrong … but you won’t be able to zip them. And you will rue your hinder — the very same one that looks so bangin’ in short skirts — and wish that you could just slice it off somehow (ew).
Or, you will realize that you have NO butt, and that jeans only serve to exacerbate this fact.
Pants: the great equalizers in body-shaming.
Dressing room lighting is one of the outer circle of Dante’s Inferno.
How are chubby knees even a thing? Your knees do MOST of the work, where your leg is concerned! And yet here you are, in the fluorescent lighting of this dressing room, wondering if there’s any possible way to go on a knee-specific diet. Not to mention the fact that this overhead lighting does nothing for your stomach area, or arm area — or any area, for that matter.
Even your hair somehow looks flatter and more dull under dressing room lights.
Haha! Surprise cellulite!
Oh, nice! You’ve never really had cause to look at yourself from this angle, but GEE WHIZ, is it a pleasant (read: devastating) surprise to realize that you have cellulite in all sorts of fun nooks and crannies! You’re never going to get naked again! Ever!
No pants ever look great in the store — it’s the law.
Once the dreaded pants are on, the effect (even if they fit) is typically underwhelming. Also, you start to second guess everything you know about yourself and your body: is this what pants are supposed to look like? Is the crotch weirdly baggy, or is it just your imagination? Do you even like pants? Do you even have cause to wear them? Who can remember??
You have to wander shamefully out of the dressing room to look in the three-way mirrors.
You can’t shake the thought that everyone and their mother (literally — all these basic bitches brought their moms to the dressing room) is judging how you look in your Rental Pants (which, for all intents and purposes, is what they are, at this moment). When you reach the three-way mirror, you only allow yourself a few moments to decide on the nature of your reflection before you scurry back to hide in the glorified bathroom stall that the department store assigned to you.
You realize that, unbeknownst to you, there were rhinestones on the back pockets the entire time.
Of COURSE the pants that fit you are perfect in the front and Liberace in the back. Not to mention the other pair you grabbed on your way to the dressing room which turned out to be capris (ew).
The ones that fit you are never, ever, ever, ever, ever on sale.
Oh, sure, every other pair is $30 — except the pair that you want. That pair is $60. And you know what? You’re gonna pay that $60. Because you want to get the fuck out of this hellhole and go home and reapply the deodorant you just sweat off.