It is not easy being me. I need new clothes for the new school year. Also, it is that time of the year when I need another haircut, so now I have that whole ordeal to cope with, yet again.
No matter how much money and time I spend on shopping for new clothes, I always look like I just woke up from sleeping at the homeless shelter, all wrinkled, disheveled, and reeking of alcohol. I look like a homeless hippy. People sometimes even throw change at me and tell me to get a job. But, I have a job, and I am not completely homeless.
The problem is that I have only two dress modes: all dressed up in a suit and tie, and all dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt. There is nothing in between. The whole business casual line of fashion is just a pile of crap. All of the clothing is made by child workers in third-world countries, and children just do not know how to make quality clothes that fit adults. The very next day after I buy a new article of clothing, it mysteriously changes size and shape, becoming warped out of all normal proportions. The collars deform and bend at right angles, sticking up into my chin, and the label on the back starts irritating me and making me itchy.
I am usually quite comfortable wearing jeans and t-shirt, but they are not appropriate attire for attending a job interview or a funeral (same thing, really). I look pretty good in a nice suit, too, but unfortunately, when I went back to school in 2006, I hung up all of my suits and they seem to have shrunk in the closet from lack of wear. They used to fit, but now I can only button the pants if I forgo breathing, and I need to breathe in order to live.
Casual clothes always make me look fat. Well, it is either the clothes or the copious volumes of beer that I drink along with the two buckets of deep fried chicken I eat every day. No, it must be the clothes. How can food make you fat? You need food and beer in order to live, so these cannot possibly make you fat.
Even when I feel like I look OK and nothing on me is digging in, falling down, coming untucked, or bursting at the seems, I still feel miserable and uncomfortable. I am always excessively hot, and I sweat a pungent mixture of bacon fat and butter. People stare at me as I wipe the drippings from my forehead and I know they are wondering, who brought a roasted pig to the meeting? Mmmm, it smells delicious. That pig roast is going to taste some good. Did anyone bring beer?