(Please pardon me while I use the word Pants like 15 times and also possibly alot of alliteration.)
Once upon of time, I had plenty of pairs of pants. Cordorouy! Jeans! ‘Slacks’ even! Then, one day, I found that I had to get rid of all of them because they no longer fit as pants should. So then suddenly: I had no pants.
So I went to go try and find some freaking pants.
Three hours and lots of dressing rooms later I discovered that I actually hate shopping, hate pants, hate sales, hate stores, and am more than happy to spend the next four months rotating between the one pair with the giant hole in the crotch, and those nice leggings my mom bought me.