Flattehn This Punk

The other day, I bought a pair of jean that were resplendent with adornments claiming that they would Flatten YOUR Tummy! Guaranteed!

Who can resist a claim like that? Certainly not I, not at the bargain price of $39.99.
So I bought them and brought them home, hugging them to my chest and lovingly stroking them. At last, at long last, I would be able to wear a belt with out looking like someone tied a tourniquet around a sack of flour. Oh, the fun that we should have; Jeans and I as we danced the night away as our groove thing shook but we did not. Oh, the places that Jeans and I would go! Maybe to Paris! Maybe to Paris, Texas anyway.

Today, I wore them all day, confident in the slimness they would bring.

All day, I could scarcely breathe as they performed their GUARANTEED flattening actions. I even had to unbutton them when I ate that grape, but it was worth it, that laying on the restroom floor and panting with exertion as I used the pliers to re-zip them.

As soon as work was done, I rushed home, light headed and not just from the lack of oxygen either.

But do you know, when I took them off, my tummy was not, in fact, any flatter? And they won’t take them back because they smell like Crisco? Even though it’s butter flavored?

No justice in this world. None at all.