Gettin' into my Jeans

The punchline was, "You're not the only one who wants to get into your pants." It came from my Mother-in-law when I mentioned that her abundance of desserts would cause problems with my waistline, and that I wanted to avoid them so I could get into my pants. She was looking at Mr. P when saying this with a grin as big as Texas as he gave her a warning glance and told her not to say it. Little did I know he took it a little more literally than figuratively.

He called to me from the living room while I was busy in another room. He sounded .... eager and playful. "Oh, what do you want now, I'm busy." I replied.

"Just come here. I want to show you something!" I bet you do I think as I head out to the living room. I was not however, expecting to see what I did upon entering.

There, standing in the middle of the living room, was the other half of we with nothing on but a smile and my jeans.

"You Bast***! (I am not a swearing woman, and don't believe I have ever called him a vulgar name in my life, at least not until yesterday.) You've got some nerve!" You see, I have told him on occasion, that the day he could fit into my jeans was the day I killed myself. I guess he wanted me dead, because there he stood in the middle of the room.....IN MY JEANS! He even looked better in them than I do!

"Well, they are loose on me you know!" I say, trying to save a shred of dignity.

"Hey, me too!" he answers with an even larger grin than before.

The only thing that saved him from a ice water bath in bed while he slept was that he's not fat. Otherwise he possibly wouldn't have lived to see another day.

My only question is why he was shirtless. Was he hoping to try my bra on too? Wouldn't surprise me I guess. That kind of thing runs in his family.