Droopy Britches

I have had to part with many a lovely pair of pants over the years. Reasons for retirement have included (but are not limited to): beet stains, broken zippers, torn knees, ass rips (I once wore a pair of jeans to a day of set building for MXTW that ripped all the way up the back when I took a moment to tie my shoe. I had to borrow Chris's car to go home and change pants), and overly stained cuffs. The number one criteria for sending clothes to slack-heaven, though, has always been that they had become uncomfortable in some way or other - - usually, they had become entirely too tight to wear in public.

This morning I put on a pair of jeans I bought last summer that were, at the time of purchase, a little tight all around, but nevertheless fairly flattering. I haven't worn them much (due mostly to a debacle involving some tree sap and my behind. . .an enitre afternoon of repeatedly applying Imperial Cleaner and washing them eventually took care of that problem), but it was raining when I got up, and I figured I'd give them a chance this morning, as I didn't mind them getting wet and a little muddy around the cuffs.

I slipped on these freshly washed jeans with a little extra time before I had to leave for class with the intention of doing a few lunges around the house to stretch them out, because, if you aren't aware of this phenomenon, that's what people do when their pants are a bit too tight post-wash.

Then: a miracle. There were definitely no lunges this morning, because MY PANTS ARE TOO BIG. They were made to sit somewhere a few inches below my belly button, and are currently hanging precariously on my hips. They are baggy in the legs, and subsequently a little bit too long. So, for the first time in the history of my wardrobe, a pair of my pants is up for review for being entirely too large for me to wear them.