The most celebrated awkward situation

Pants ripping. In high school.

I don’t get too heartbroken when I destroy clothes, it’s something that has come naturally to me all my life. But when I find corduroy pants that fit my ass like THAT, I get a little nostalgic.

By revealing that my corduroys were my favorite, I set the scene that I was not the sexiest dresser in high school. But on this one particular day, I had some cute underwear on. A pair of red Calvin Kleins. This was my junior or senior year a high school, so luckily I was too old for anyone to steal my lunch money.

I had a computer class of some sort. My high school mainly consisted of portable classrooms from the 1970s (a real high budget place). For some reason, the computer rooms were in pristine shape. The room was surrounded by white boards with metal chalk trays under them. This would be my downfall.

All I remember was getting up quickly, nailing my ass on one of those chalk trays and hearing one of the loudest rips of my life. I was somehow lucky enough not to rip my pants right down my ass. Instead, from my hip to my knee was tripping on the side, revealing my bright red undies. I gave the deer in the headlights shocked looked for a moment or two before the teacher instructed me to go to the nurse.

This concept interests me. It wasn’t “go to the office, call your mom, and have her bring you new pants.” It was “go to a licensed medical worker and see what she can do.” Not only that, but the geography of it did not make sense. The main office was about 50 down the hall whereas the nurse’s office was about five miles away on the other side of the school. I assumed the teacher had witnessed another buffoon rip their pants before, so I followed her good judgment.

I did my best to hold my pants together as I made the long trip to the nurse’s office, awkwardly passing my peers at every turn. Upon entering the nurse’s office, she asked if I could sew. I replied no (a problem that I’ve remedied since). She pulls out a box of safety pins from her desk. “Do the best you can, then go back to class when you’re finished.” I sat there, milking my time as long as I could, pinning corduroy together.

I spent the rest of the day moving my leg as little as possible. I feared that one wrong move would disrupt my delicate display of pinning and the pants would rip even more. I remember kids asking me about what happened, and me explaining it was “punk rock” in my best SLC Punk voice. That excuse got me through the day.

R.I.P. corduroys

~ by meladori on January 20, 2008.