The Big White Pants

I was out running errands the other day when the zipper of my pants burst open. The cause of the explosion is unknown. I just looked down and saw that the front of my pants suddenly held a surprised expression. At the time of the burst, I happened to have popped into a Levi's store, so it seemed a simple fix to just buy a pair of jeans. I trailed the perimeter of the store leaving my hips parallel to the wall. This was no subtle wardrobe malfunction. I had to keep something in front of me or else people would surely try to tell me that my zipper was open. 

The store clerk came over. "Can I help you find anything?" she asked.
I turned my head but kept my body facing the wall. "Oh I'm just looking, thanks!"

When no one was around I'd dart to a display and rummage for my size. The trouble with my size, as any human can explain about theirs, is that the combination of long legs and wide hips really alludes most clothing designers. These features go together like popsicles and peanut butter. If they fit in the hips, they're too short. If they are long enough, I can't button 'em. Levi's, however, offers pants with different inseams (hooray!) but do you think they had my hip size with my leg length in stock on this day? No! Not a one! "Hmm... I don't think we carry many of those," the clerk told me when I asked for my freakish numerical ratio.

And the trouble with Levi's, as any unemployed person can explain, is that they cost too much to buy a pair that doesn't fit right. I really thought about it. I considered purchasing a pair that fit in the hip, were loose in the leg, and only went down to my ankles. But the good thing about aging is that you become too stubborn to do things that don't tick all the boxes. I was not concerned enough about walking around with my pants gaping open to just spend money frivolously. 

I left the store holding my backpack in front of my crotch as though I'd wet myself. I struggled to suppress my laughter as I decided what to do. I still had errands to run and I was 45 minutes from home. I elected to run into an H&M, where clothes are cheap n' trendy, and just buy a pair of shorts and be done with it. To make a long story short, it seems H&M has leaned drastically in the trendy direction this season which is unfortunately showing a collection of neon colors, parachute pants, and ill-fitting office wear. I kid you not, I searched the whole store, with an especially open mind given the circumstances, and I couldn't find a single thing in there that I would wear out in public. Remember the Spice Girls? I wasn't into their clothes then and I'm too old to pull it off now. I grabbed a pair of jean shorts and some white jeans and went into the dressing room.

Sure, the shorts fit but I have so many pairs of shorts. I don't want more. I don't need more. And why would it cost $30 for shorts this short? It's not like they used up much material. That takes us to the white jeans. They didn't have my size, of course, but I don't have any white jeans. If I'm going pay for some clothes I don't want, should I not buy something I don't have, on the off chance I might wear it someday? I jumped into the baggy white pants, laughed at how frumpy they looked, but also felt very ready to just be done with my current wardrobe conundrum. I looked in the mirror and slumped over. I looked like I had three kids at home waiting for me. 

Ready to move on with my day, I decided to just buy the pants. So how do I make this work? I cuffed the bottoms and switched my belt from the pants I'd just lost in battle to the these big white ones and I liked it. I LIKED IT! "That's not so bad," I said, even though I also knew that it was. How can they be so awful and great at the same time? Fear shot through my finger tips. "This is stage one," I said out loud in the dressing room. High waisted pants, with a tapered leg, two sizes too big... this is stage one.

I wore the big white pants up to the register and handed the girl the price tag. She looked up at me. "I ripped my pants," I told her, and she was not nearly as amused as I thought she'd be. I walked out of the store in my big new mom-jeans, feeling... aged. 

I own mom-jeans and I like them. I couldn't wait to tell Brett. He'd knock some sense into me. He was not impressed with the pants but didn't find anything about my pantaloon trials to be much of a big deal. (Certainly not worth their own blog post.) 

I've made a rule that the mom-jeans are just for home use. I hope I'll stick to it. 
Wearing them out is stage two.