Let me set the scene for you:
You get home after performing in a concert or a night on the town. As you like to go through every item in your closet before wearing the same outfit again, you decide to wear an emerald pant suit. Accompanying the suit is a pair of golden bejeweled shoes. Unfortunately, you had rushed out of the house and had forgotten your gold belt.
Even though you are wearing a fancy outfit, your stomach demands substance – and it is not going to let you ignore it. You have no choice but to comply with what your stomach is saying is imminent starvation. You go to the refrigerator and grab a container of your favorite leftovers.
Once you finish your meal and the monster has been sated, you settle into the chair in your living room. You enjoy the Christmas scenery before you that you and your family had done a few days prior. Suddenly, you remember the homework you must do. Groaning, you know you have to get this done as soon as possible. The thought of changing your clothes before you begin such a long journey crosses your mind. However, you are comfortable. And – dare I say – you feel bad and boujee.
You work on homework for a few hours. As you go, your sibling is put to bed. Your parent decides to go to bed as well. Now, you are alone in your living room attempting to complete your work without pulling an all-nighter. As you go, an inkling of discomfort crosses your mind. You ignore it because you had entered the zone. Nothing can stop you now.
Until the inkling becomes an urgency.
You are trying to complete the project you are working on; however, your bladder does not let itself be ignored. You begin rocking back and forth… back and forth… back… and… forth. Any attempt to sate the beast has failed. The chills rush up your arms and legs.
Panic hits you like a truck. You push away your laptop and sprint to the bathroom, while also being mindful of the three other people asleep in your house.
You make it into the bathroom and shut the door. You look at yourself in the mirror and have a dark realization: you are in a pantsuit. Pantsuits are not easy to put on and off, especially when there is not a second person readily available to assist you.
You reach your arm above your head and behind your back to try and grab the zipper. You are able to push it down from above about two inches. However, it passes the point of no return. You try going from the bottom, but your arms are not long enough.
It is getting to a desperate point. You run on your toes into your kitchen. You speed to the junk drawer right underneath your microwave. Everything is in the drawer from pencils, to tape, to hooks for Christmas ornaments. However, you are looking for something specific.
You find it and raise it to the sky. Aha! A clothes pin! You are saved. You reach behind your back to grab the zipper with the pin.
The zipper is too small.
You place the clothes pin back into the junk drawer. You go to your oven and look into the drawer beside it. You find what you are looking for right at the top. Aha! Tongs! You are saved. You reach behind your back to grab the zipper with the pin.
The zipper is too small.
You place the tongs back in the drawer. The chills begin getting more intense. The need to relieve yourself has reached the danger zone. Desperately, you try going at the zipper from the top and pushing it down. The zipper, however, does not allow this to happen. It is a safety zipper that does not go down unless you pull it from the zipper handle.
At this moment, you understand what you have to do. You run into your parents room and wake them up. After scaring the daylights out of them, they help you unzip the pantsuit. Once you are free, you sprint to the bathroom to finally gain the relief that you had spent ten minutes trying to solve.
Ah, I am truly safe, you think. Then, you look to your watch: 1:45am. Well, you think, what a late-night predicament indeed.
Sydney Clark is the author of this piece.