ironing

    Every trendy person owns a pair of cuffed beige shorty-shorts, fact. I say "person" because I have indeed seen menfolk sporting them as well as overly tanned teenaged girls. They are a great investment; they're comfy, they're casual, they're cuffed. They're just overall fashionable.

    What they don't tell you in American Eagle and Old Navy is that there is a very important requirement you must adhere to after purchasing said shorts: you must iron.

   I don't think I've ever really ironed anything in my entire life. Sure, I asked my mom if I could "iron" her work shirt once or twice when I was younger, only to drench it with that cool misty-button and leave weird waffle-like marks on the cuffs. That's why I said only once or twice.

   I remember going over to my grandma's house on a laundry day and she would literally shut herself in their "den" all day in order to complete the entire laundry process. It went something like this:

1. gather all clothing
2. separate into a bajillion little piles (don't even think about putting a tan shirt in with the whites!)
3. begin washing/drying process
4. after every load is dried and folded in basket, bring to den
5. begin ironing EVERY SINGLE PIECE OF CLOTHING

    My young brain could wrap around the first four steps, but the fifth just seemed a little extreme. And even the extreme would be taken to the extreme when she began ironing my grandpa's underwear. I could do nothing but gape in awe.

    Now that I am in the real world (a.k.a. my mom doesn't do my laundry every week anymore), I had to figure out how to look normal in my clothing. I could handle the sorting, washing, drying, and folding pretty well, but ironing was this foreign word that made me angry. I got an iron somehow, but I don't think I've taken it out of the box. Besides, I only have one item in my closet that really needs to be ironed: the cuffed beige shorty-shorts.

    I really love those shorts, they have been there in both good times and bad, but whenever I consider pulling them out of my rubbermaid stacker/dresser I get all overwhelmed with the daunting task of ironing those damn cuffs. Why don't the sewers in Vietnam or wherever just add a few extra stitches here or there so the cuffs will stay up on their own? This I don't know.

    To avoid getting the iron out, and to still maintain a look of self-caring, I have found a solution.

    Why yes, that is me ironing my cuffs with a straightner. Genious!