She makes a point to clinch the title

While all eyes were on Frank, Sheryl eyed the bar and rushed to it. Even in her drunken stupor, she belted ten perfect reps with the new weight.

"There!" she turned to Frank "Told you I pulled! Now, about those clothes..." as the partygoers glared at her rudeness given the circumstances.

"Fine, fine..." Frank was more courteous as he stood up with some pain. "You wanted something to wear, here you go," he undid his shorts and pulled them down; he was in so much pain he couldn't even bend down all the way, letting gravity do its job as he stepped out of the shorts and gestured to Sheryl to pick them up.

Which she did, and put them on. The only problem was that her toned physique was nothing like Frank's stocky frame, so now the shorts were too big for her. "Uhhh, Frank," she asked, "you got a belt?"

"Sorry, Sher Bear," he demurred, "that's all I have. Sorry about that!"

Grasping the shorts with both her hands, she looked for any sympathy but was met with only disgusted stares at her behavior while focusing on the injured Frank.

Sheryl found her wedges and tried putting her feet back in them, but in her haze couldn't handle it while keeping the shorts up. After dropping them, she finally navigated her way around the footwear and, after several camera flashes, finally pulled the shorts up as well. Keeping them up was another matter, however, especially after she put her wallet, phone, and keys into the pockets to weigh them down further.

Having both her hands occupied to keep the shorts up, but finally feeling good about being decent (her nipples notwithstanding), she walked back into the party but was faced with an icy cold reception as the sirens of Frank's ambulance got closer and closer.