Published: August 29th 2025, 1:38:06 pm
Dungarees are what would be born if a summer dress got impregnated by a pair of jeans. They grew up with their mother, hanging around in the wardrobe with the dresses. Dungarees wouldn’t fit well in the draws like their Father, but they didn’t exactly fit hanging in the wardrobe either; there were always comments being whispered by the finer fabrics who all felt the Dungarees were far too bulky to be taking up space on the hanger rail. As such, Dungarees grew up with few friends and always felt politely outcast.
Dad, the Jeans, was mostly absent but not due to lack of caring; they felt inadequate as mere draw-dwelling, denim working trousers and spent too long away working themselves worn trying to prove themselves to the summer-dress’s hoity-toity friends and family. Dungarees never went without, but they hardly knew their Father.
Still, The Summer Dress loved the Jeans and loved the Dungarees, always making sure to stick up for them both to the other dresses and the cardigans, and the Dungarees grew up thinking highly of the hardworking denim trousers who toiled through day after day of hard wearing wear, seemingly so the dresses could save themselves for fashionable social events. That all changed when the jeans rolled-up one day full of trendy holes at the knees and ran off with a slutty crop-top, the PIG!
Anyway, Dungarees grew up to be a hardworking member of the wardrobe regardless and they make my boobies feel so free and inviting, don’t you think?