Anyone who catches even a glimpse of me immediately
recognizes the fact that I’m not much of a dresser. Neither am I in the least
bit interested in the latest fashions. So, it would surprise no one that I
balked at the wearing the pair of jeans my wife brought home the other day. She
told me to try them on, and when I did, they were so tight around the legs that
I felt smothered. Amy explained that the
pair was tight-fitting in the legs. My
legs are so skinny that folks have made jokes about them for years, so it was
not surprise that I wasn’t at all interested in wearing them to accentuate that
characteristic. The truth is I’ve never been able to wear the nicest, most
popular clothing items.
My brother was nearly four years older, and when he was in
high school, guys wore peg-legged pants. They were so tight in the legs that
just pulling them over feet was a difficult task. However, the look was
stylish, and Dal wore them. Jim and I, on the other hand, had no chance of
owning such a pair. We both possessed round body shapes, and mine was more so
than his. To get a pair of jeans or pants big enough in the waist required
buying “husky” cuts.
That term was code for “fat boy” jeans. Wearing them with
such skinny legs would have made us look like lollipops. Our pants were big,
and the seats and legs were baggy.
Only during my senior year did my body change. Some of it
was due to maturity; the other part was the result of surviving on a diet of
cigarettes, cokes, and peanut butter, mayonnaise and mustard sandwiches. Even
though I lost several pounds, I didn’t buy new clothes. Instead, pants that
were too large were cinched up with a belt. The look wasn’t good, but I
survived.
In college, I owned a couple of trendier items, and my shoes
were in style, even though they hurt my
feet. Jeans were the rage, and most folks wore earth shoes. I sported a bush jacket with a belt that always hung loose. No girls came rushing up to me because I was dressed so well, but that was all right since my pursuits were aimed at studying to make sure I earned a college degree and to perform better than I’d done in high school. Okay, I suppose it would have been nice if I’d made an impression, but I lucked out my senior year when I met Amy, and by then, I wore regular stuff without regard to the latest fashion demands.
feet. Jeans were the rage, and most folks wore earth shoes. I sported a bush jacket with a belt that always hung loose. No girls came rushing up to me because I was dressed so well, but that was all right since my pursuits were aimed at studying to make sure I earned a college degree and to perform better than I’d done in high school. Okay, I suppose it would have been nice if I’d made an impression, but I lucked out my senior year when I met Amy, and by then, I wore regular stuff without regard to the latest fashion demands.
Since Amy and I married, she has become the one who chooses
my clothes. Left to me, my wardrobe would consist of sweat pants, t-shirts, and
tennis shoes. My wife thinks that, on occasion, a better mode of dress should
include a pair of slacks that aren’t so old that the ends are frayed and, at
the minimum, a polo shirt that hasn’t faded to a color different from the
original. She’s given up on my wearing a tie or a suit. I reserve the right to
wear those things only for the most special occasions and for funerals.
So, Amy returned the tight-legged jeans without bringing
home a different pair of slacks. That’s fine with me. The pairs I already have
are comfortable and plenty good enough to wear most places. On my return home each
day, I rush to once again put on my shorts and worn out t-shirts. It’s only
then that I am suitably dressed. Oh, and those items are from places like
Walmart or Costco. I’m not trying to make an impression on anyone these days.
Comfort is more important.