My favourite trousers are not trousers nor are they meant for me – they are ladies’ jeans with a great big flare.
Why do I wear them? For some reason it’s far easier to get long-legged jeans in the lady section of the trouser department than it is in the area I have been assigned due to my sex.
They’re also really cheap.
The best thing about these jeans is the flare. I’ve never felt so fucking snazzy in my whole life. A walk to the corner shop for some milk is suddenly the coolest thing in the world. I have never been sad in these jeans… my whole life is a Bee Gees video.
Naturally, I’d be Lion-O Bee Gee.
My favourite pair of proper trousers belong to an £8 charity shop suit. The waist was a little large for me so I went to another charity shop the next day and bought some braces, ’cause my belt broke. They made me feel pretty authoritative – like I was a detective from the 1930s, keeping the scum off the streets.
It’s a good to keep yourself grounded in a special sort of reality when working in sales. I’d surely have lost the will to live otherwise.
Unfortunately, my trousers didn’t make it. One lunchtime I noticed that they’d split from arse to crotch, leaving me to walk like a penguin for the rest of my shift and all the way home. It was the saddest day of my life.
I work in a real job now, by the way, and I’ve yet to have a trouser accident. I believe that this makes me a successful adult.