Roxy stood in front of her mirror, her black ripped jeans barely clinging to her thighs as she tried, once again, to yank the zipper up. The fabric groaned in protest, the tears stretching wider with each tug. Letting out an annoyed huff, she stepped back and frowned at her reflection, hands on her wide hips.

"Ugh, what is with these jeans lately? Did they shrink in the wash or something?" She muttered to herself, glaring at the offending zipper as though it had personally betrayed her. She gave another determined tug, her belly pressing heavily against the waistband, threatening to spill over entirely. She paused to catch her breath, brushing a strand of jet-black hair out of her face, her expression shifting to one of annoyance masked with defiance.

Her tank top wasn’t faring much better. The bold “Metal” scrawl stretched tightly across her chest, and the bottom hem rolled up slightly, exposing a soft band of her white-furred belly. She gave it a distracted pat, then pulled the shirt down with a frustrated sigh, only for it to bounce back up almost immediately.

"Seriously, what’s going on? Is everything I own defective now?" Roxy muttered, her tone more irritated than concerned. She turned slightly to check the fit of her jeans from the side, catching how her rounded belly jutted forward over the waistband. She tugged at her shirt again, trying to smooth it down, but it didn’t budge much.

Deciding the jeans deserved one last chance, she took a deep breath and leaned forward slightly, giving the zipper one final yank. It zipped barely but the button stubbornly refused to close. She stood there for a moment, panting slightly, before shrugging it off with an indifferent smirk.

"Guess it’s the jeans' fault. Cheap fabric can’t handle a real body like mine" she said with a confident laugh, running her hands down her thighs as though admiring her reflection. Without missing a beat, she reached for her leather jacket to throw over her outfit, dismissing the fit issues entirely.