Just Google It

Last Sunday, Google saved my life.

And my marriage.

And quite possibly my relationship with Jesus.

Unlike most Sundays, this Sunday actually began on the right foot. My outfit was chosen the night before, saving Josh from having to re-hang my entire closet after I've declared it all "no good". I woke up with hours to spare, meaning I could dilly-dally to my heart's content and still make it to church on time. I was refreshed, energized, and ready to face the day.

It was, after all, Easter. The day we celebrate new life, freedom, and joy. The day we remember what exactly our Savior gave up for us. The day we focus outward instead of inward.

The day we shouldn't throw fits 45 minutes before church.

My make-up was done, my hair was big, and my spankin' new heels were already starting to form blisters on my "she-lives-in-flats-only" feet. My top was ironed out, the sweater fixed just-so, and my accessories were planned to the T.

And then I turned around.

There - right under my rear - was a crease. Not just one - but four. Like big giant fat rolls. With fabric.

Bright pink fabric.

I tried not to freak out. I really did. But when you're used to loose and flowy, tight pink rolls kind of freak you out.

So I did what any other girl would do; I threw a big, fat hissy fit.

Yeah... not my best moment ever.

Here we are getting ready to leave for church on Easter, and I'm stomping my feet because my pants aren't fitting like I think they should.

Josh - bless his heart - tried to intervene. He tried to redirect my attention to the things that matter. He tried to convince me that the pants were just made that way. He tried to remind me that it didn't really matter what I was wearing (because it didn't).

Lord knows he tried, but I wasn't having any of it.

After I compared the pants to something Mary Magdalene (if she were alive today) would wear, Josh just walked out. Apparently he'd had too much crazy for one Easter Sunday morning.

Much grumbling and complaining later (after I realized he wasn't coming back to relieve me of The Great Pants Debacle), I decided to take matters into my own hands. Pulling up the Safari browser on my phone, I went straight to Google and typed in the only logical search term that applied to my situation:

"Kate Middleton's Butt in Pants".

Yes, I know. I entered a whole new level of crazy with that search.

But y'all... I was desperate. And who better to guide me through the murky waters of fashion do's and don'ts other than THE most fashionable lady on the planet?

It took a lot of scrolling (after all, she is a classy lady), but I finally found what I was searching for. And it turns out - Kate Middleton's pants do that funky crease thing too.

So my pants were ok.

Life was good.

It was time to go to church...and celebrate Jesus.

Who, I'm pretty sure if you asked him, would have been totally concerned about The Great Pants Debacle of Easter 2013.