As you know, because word is sweeping the country faster than a virus
once a month I get a box from StitchFix, and if I were any sort of successful writer I’d be getting these boxes for free and sailing off to pink-sand beaches with all my cash money.
But as I’m middling at best, I have to pay for StitchFix like the rest of you losers.
(Why IS it she can’t crack the popularity nut? I can’t figure it out.)
Anyway, my box o’Stitch came, like, one day after my surgery (by the way, I had surgery) and I was in no shape to try things on, not to mention I was all swollen and stuff. So first I forced my mother to wear the clothes that came in the box.
I took these from my bed, where I lay for many days, except for when my mother would ask where something was and I’d tell her and she’d say she couldn’t find it and I’d have to get up, leaving a trail of my innards as I minced to find her a slotted spoon.
Since I know that some of you tend to study my photographs for several hours, with a magnifying glass, someone will say, “Why the kitchen chair in the bedroom, JOOOOOON” and my answer is that I forced mom to wash my kitchen floor and she actually removed the chairs from the kitchen, a thing I never ever do.
Also, after she left, I got out a pan and I was all, Whose pan is this? Because it was shiny. And there were no more burnt popcorn stains on it. I have seriously no idea how she got those off that pan.
Anyway, I wrote to StitchFix and told them I’d just had surgery and they wrote back, “OH MY GOD WE KNOW” and also extended the amount of time I could decide on the clothes. I knew you wanted a true, scientific look at me in each of my threads, a word I use because suddenly I’m Jason from Room 222.
I finally felt okay enough to try on my duds Sunday. BUT, as promised, I posed in them emulating poses I found in Soft Surroundings catalog.
My friend Marianne was visiting me yesterday,
so I forced her to be my photographer. Then I said, WASH MY PANS and lo and behold she had to go.
So without further delay—I’m like someone who’s gonna give you a recipe and tells her FEKKING LIFE STORY first—here we go.
Dear Marianne: Why did you art direct me to always be posing the wrong direction?
The good news is, you can see both my mother AND me in most of the clothes. Also, these pants are part of the StitchFix box, but I know I’m keeping them. I love them. I will marry them and become Mrs. June Pants.
No, seriously, Marianne. Are you disordered? Do you see the world in a mirror image? She had me pointing the wrong way in EVERY SHOT. Kills me.
“Really, I didn’t know what I treasured more in this post. The fact that Marianne doesn’t know which direction someone is standing or June’s roots. But once we enjoyed her armpit, all bets were off.”
After this photoshoot, Marianne left to go point other things in the wrong direction, and I slept one of those open-mouth deep sleeps where you wake up and have no idea who you are.
One more thing: The prices are listed at the top of each poll, but remember that if I get all items, including the pants, I get a 25% discount. So all the items together are $240 but I’d get them for $160 (you also get a $20 discount for buying anything at all. It’s maths. Just trust me).
I look forward to your pithy answers.
Mrs. June Pants