Drop and Roll

It's one of my favorite new past times. It's called, "See How Far You Can Get Without Your Pants Falling Down." This morning was a perfect example, I'm in the office parking lot, hands full, and as I walk toward the office, my wonderful, stretchy-panel pants start inching their way down my hips. I know good and well it will just be a matter of moments before said pants are around my ankles.
What to do? What to do? Do I chance it and see if I can get all the way to the entrance? Or, do I put all of my stuff on the wet ground, wrestle my pants up as high as I can wedge them while office mates possibly watch manoeuvres from office window? If my luck runs out, I also risk everyone seeing my lovely granny panties and blindingly white chicken legs. Nothing hotter.

What makes it worse is the black trench coat I wear. Sans pants, I look like a pregnant flasher. Ga-ross. So lies the dilemma. I usually go for it, holding my thighs together as tightly as I can (which looks like a 3 yr old having to pee badly) while making a dash for it. Other times I just know that no amount thigh control will save me which means I have to hitch up my coat, then grab the pants and wrestle them up along with the large-sized panties. None of this is attractive for a grown woman. It's just wrong.

There has GOT to be a better alternative for maternity pants. I've got the bell.aband. It works sometimes. But there are days when nothing helps and I spend my entire grocery or mall trip scanning for empty aisles where I can hitch without being spotted. Sometimes I have no choice but to inflict young children and old men with my antics invoking nightmares across the Pacific Northwest.

BigB presented me with a pair of bright red suspenders. He said he was worried about the neighbors calling the police. They work well, but hard to coordinate with most of outfits (except my lumberjack ensemble).