Dead Cow Bloomers

Over the course of my life, I have had about three different friends tell me that they had promised themselves a pair of leather pants if they hit their goal weight.

It strikes me as very odd that I would know anyone who wanted to own leather pants let alone use being overweight as their sole reason for not owning a pair. Leather pants are very nearly always a bad fashion decision, except in some cases of really hot rock gods from the 1970s. Also, the cows are none too thrilled with them, either. Of course, cows are unimpressed with a lot things — leather furniture, footballs, and getting fisted by farmers all the bloody time, to name a few &mdash but we shouldn't let their personal stake in the matter discredit them. Leather pants make the entire pantheon of deities weep oceans, especially Hindu ones.

One of the three friends cursed with this unfortunate desire did reach her goal weight, which she marked by showing up in public in an unfortunate pair of dark chocolate brown leather pants.

"What do you think?" she asked, slapping her own ass. "Leather pants!"

"They sure are," I said, walking in a circle around her. "You did good," I lied, faking a nod of approval.

I lied, because she was obviously so pleased with them, but in truth I was wondering how dark the store's changing room must have been. The pants were supposed to be her personal reward for losing over fifty pounds, and as such you'd think that they would have been sized for her new dimensions, but no. These leather pants looked to be about right for her previously heavier self. They bagged out loosely around her butt and thighs. She bought leather fat pants.

Some people run out and buy skinny jeans when they lose weight. She ran out and bought dead cow bloomers.

Why I am relating this story to you, I have no idea. Maybe I have an abiding fondness for bovines. Maybe I woke up at 1:00 a.m. possessed of the need to write this story out on the back of a bank receipt. Maybe I really don't want you, or anyone else for that matter, to wear leather pants.

THE MORAL OF THE STORY: You might think that the moral of this story is that leather pants are a bad reward for the formerly fat, but that's not the case. The moral of this story is that leather pants should never be blousy. No, that's not the moral. The REAL moral of this story is that leather pants should never be worn by anyone unless they are the lace-up kind and on Jim Morrison, but not today's Jim Morrison, the alive one from the 1970s.

UPDATE: If you are the person who owned these pants I've been talking about, I lied to you, and I am absolutely not sorry about that. You wore those pants. In public. All other sins pale in comparison. I love you.

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