A Rant to My Panties.
While I understand that you have a hard job, I have to bring up your performance. Why must you peep out of my jeans? And not just by a little bit. Why must half of you be out at all times? Is it you that pushes my shirt and cami up as well? I'm afraid this has adversely affected your performance rating.
Also, panties, why must you droop in the back when I am not wearing any pants? Do you not understand your job function? Or perhaps you think it's as hilarious as my husband? Either way, this is unacceptable.
Panties, I am also going to have to note the way you don't stay up when your inside pants. Which is it? Poking out or down around my thighs. Pick one, panties. Pick. One.
So you see, panties, this is why I'm going to have to let you go and buy new panties. Panties that understand my needs. Thank you for all your hard work, panties.
The scale can only give you a numerical reflection of your relationship with gravity. That's it. It cannot measure beauty, talent, purpose, life force, possibility, strength or love.