Where's My Phone?

Okay, I have to know. Of all the women who have cell phones—that’s pretty much all of you—how many of you feel foolish and maybe guilty for leaving it unattended somewhere, temporarily losing it, or forgetting where it is altogether? If “Where’s my phone?” is one of your most anguished questions of 2017, this is for you. 

There is NO CONDEMNATION FOR YOU! I know that you have no pockets in which to put and tote your phone, so it’s not your fault. You are unfairly treated by the fashion industry, which puts hip-slimming pockets in your clothing fit for diminutive baby dolls. Put that together with a cellie the size of a blimp, and of course you’re not going to carry it with you—you’re going to put it down because you’ve got a lot to do with your hands. They don’t fit in your pockets either. Gals pinwheel their hands in conversation because they’ve got no place to put them. It’s all a conspiracy.  

Therefore and herinafter, I pronounce you INNOCENT. 

As part of your recovery process, maybe you gals could start taking a knee in the pants department at Kohl’s, Dillard’s, Ann Taylor, Nordstrom, Loft, and even Costco. I don’t know, but it could become a thing. I can’t make it all better, but I can tell you that this gargantuan-pocketed, pant-wearing man knows about your stress-filled, cell phone trauma, your fashion torture, and I’m here to tell you that it’s not your fault. You are well! You are good. 

So rock on, cellie mamas! Rock on!