Camel Humps

If ever there were a poster child for embarrassing moments in the ladies bathroom, I would most certainly have to at least be presented with honorable mention, a shiny medal and a reasonably noticeable chest upon which to pin it. Today, a lovely lady here at my office came to me, grocery bag in hand, and said "Here's a pair of low rise Ralph Lauren jeans I can't wear. If you can wear them, you can have them." COOL! I peeked at the tag when there weren't no one a lookin', spied the size "13/14" and smugly took off for the ladies room, practicing my "Oh I'm SO very sorry, but they're a few sizes too big, such a shame, but thank you for thinking of me" speech. Got to the ladies, looked again at the tag and realized that they weren't just a size 13/14. They were a size 13/14 JUNIORS. Oh so effing WHAT? How much difference can THAT possibly make? Size is size, right? Jesus, I'm stupid. Off went the shoes and off came my pants and let the wild rumpus begin.

**ahem**

"Ladies and gentlemen, reporting to you LIVE from the ladies restroom and yes, we're in the BIG stall and the fun is about to start and do we have . . . yes we do, yes yes here we go. She shakes out the jeans with a practiced **snap** and we have the . . . the right foot is in, the right foot IS in and she wiggles the pants up and lessee here . . . . she standing on her right foot, gets her balance, WHOA! tips over, and she rebalances and . . . and . . . yes the left foot, the LEFT foot IS in. And she pauses. And she breaths and she PULLS them up and we're at the calves!! We're at the knees!!! We're at the thighs, we're AT the thighs, and we're still at the thighs and we're pausing, ladies and gentlemen. Time out. Regrouping. Obviously thinking out her strategy and . . .OKOKOKOK time IN and she gets two fists-full of denim, one on each side and, OK. Oh my GOD folks, we've seen this before but never quite like what we're witnessing today. It's the pulling, jumping, spinning jean jerk maneuver. And they're UP. Yes indeed, they're UP and THAT's the half.

Get your hotdogs, your beer and your nachos and come scooting right on back because for your halftime viewing pleasure we present Aaron Neville and Aretha Franklin beating Mic Jaggar bloody with his own microphone stand. Back in a few."

*thwap thwap thwap*

(Insert theme song from Jeopardy here)

"OK folks, we ARE back and what have we here. We have our star player positioned with her knees and ankles pressed together hard enough to leave bruises and permanent dents and, apparently, the reason behind every vein in her face bulging prominently is that she's managed to get the button hole side within touching distance of the actual button and . . . .and . . . THEY'RE CLOSED YES OH MY GOD THEY'RE CLOSED!!!!! **zip*** Ladies and gentlemen success. They ARE on and she's leaving the stall to show her friends, who are brushing themselves off after having landed on the floor several times, proving yet again that you cannot laugh, pee your pants and stand erect simultaneously. Lovely. Just lovely. Look at her spin, look at her pose. Stare at her longingly in all her glory! Look at her just GLOW! Look at the attractive camel humps midway down her back. CAMEL HUMPS? Wait. Those aren't camel humps. What the hell ARE those things!!!??!! Oh my. Oh. Those two bulbous growths protruding from her lower back are her ass cheeks which clearly were shoved up and OUT of the jeans in order to actually pull them up and close them. Oh My. We need some assistance here!!! The friends are DOWN, I repeat WE HAVE PEOPLE DOWN HERE!!! MOVE IT MOVE IT!!! MEDIC!!! Oh My. Um. . . "

And there you have it. 45 year old women CAN wear jeans from the junior department. It ain't pretty. But it CAN be done.