Versace Jeans

About ten years ago, I worked at a distribution center in Van Nuys. I hung out with Chris, the office equivalent of the class clown. He looked like Charles Barkley and spent most of the work day blatantly reading the newspaper with his legs outstretched and Facebook obviously on his computer screen.
Chris and I would go out to lunch frequently, and we'd make each other laugh endlessly talking about our coworkers.
Ragina was on my team, and was the point person for the depot workers. She had to spend much of her day out in the boiling heat making sure orders were being filled properly. The temperature was easily over a hundred, and the depot workers would try to beat the heat with drenched handkerchiefs and fans blowing.
Ragina and I had the same supervisor, he spent a lot of time in his minivan chain smoking and drinking regular coca cola. He was a HR nightmare, and had been in trouble a couple times for sexual harassment. I overlooked his pervy creep comments, and he overlooked my very long lunch breaks.
He was not a fan of Ragina, and Chris and I knew it was because she didn't give a fuck about her looks which is a great crime to a disgusting sexual harasser because he couldn't lust after her while pretending to work at his computer.
By the end of that summer Ragina's desk was moved out to the depot, banishing her from the comforts of the office, our supervisor's line of sight and the much needed air conditioning.
She was not ugly, she just looked like she rolled out of bed 5 minutes before work. Her hair was always a mess, her nose had the bulbous red tip giving a bit away about her late night drinking habits, and her clothes were way too small. She was a small person, but probably much tinier a couple years earlier. All the vices that come along with adult life, caught up with her and she never bought the next pant size up.
So she would storm around the office with a prominent camel toe. Chris told me that Ragina's husband didn't work, he was a student, getting his master's degree to become an eco-friendly travel agent. She was likely very frugal, and couldn't buy clothes because she was paying for her husband to get a degree in something that seems like he could learn from an online course while working.
We were really having a laugh about him living the carefree life of an unemployed student while his wife is sweating her ass off wearing pants that are about to explode out at the vagina. Chris said, "You know every day her husband wakes up as she is leaving for work, and says, 'Girl, you look good in those jeans. Are they Versace?"

I was thinking about Ragina the other day when my dad told me my grandfather left money for my cousins and me, and for tax purposes, we'll get it in ten years. I already knew about it because my mom told me the day before, I asked her to keep it a secret because I didn't want to start feeing like I was getting unusual affection as a result of this news, but we are on the slow sinking ship, and the news spread.
It's not like Real Housewives money. I won't be able to tell everyone I am working on my clothing line, but really sleep until noon every day, and spend my waking hours looking pretty awaiting 5 o'clock so I can swap ice tea for wine. It will likely pay for my kids to go to college.
I planned on my kids learning German, so they could attend university there, and it will not cost me anything. Now, I guess I can fund their Harvard education, so long as their major isn't eco-friendly travel agent or interpretive dance, in that case they can go to a state school.
I think I will get myself to money bags status before the next decade closes, so this will be an added bonus.
My natural reaction to be secretive probably means I will be a super paranoid rich person, worried everyone is trying to get a piece of my pie. I know one thing, if someone comes at me with, "Are those jeans Versace?" I will go lock up my check book.

Uh, yeah, that's a camel toe

I get what your saying, "Own the camel toe."

It still looks like a camel toe