Jackie S. Quire and the case of the saggy bottoms

I have no ass.

This - for those who know me - is not just a fact of life, but a reoccurring theme that pervades just about everything I do.

From the moment I wake up in the morning (and pull up my PJ pants, because they've migrated down towards the bottom of the bed) to the time I lay down at night (with one final pants-tug before getting horizontal) my lack of dairy-air (I'm so witty) nags at me non-stop.

I get up from my desk to get a cup of coffee... doing the squat-and-tug just two feet from my chair.
I go to the post office to check my mail: I yank once I get to the top of the 7-steps at the entrance, and then once again after I bend down to open the box on the very bottom row.

You see, having no ass doesn't just mean I don't get to participate in booty-shakes... or sing along enthusiastically to Sir Mix Alot... it means my pants JUST DON'T STAY UP.

The only way to get my pants to stay up would be if they were bib-style like my snowpants. Or a really strong pair of suspenders might help... but would totally cramp my style (all the style I have in the Great White North). Many have suggested one of those leather strap-things...that go around your middle... oh yah, Belt. That's what's it's called. Belt.

Well Belt doesn't work. It just adds more weight to the pants... and being as we live on a gravity-abundant planet, that means they scooch their way down my body even FASTER than without.

So for all of you out there, who think a little bit of butt crack is DISGUSTING (which, it is...) maybe you'll now take pause. Because maybe that poor soul WANTS to keep his/her pants up AND CAN'T, and is equally frustrated with their public display of crackage.

That is all.