I don’t like shopping – especially for clothes. I wear comfortable, breathable attire, no matter the occasion. Barbecue, baseball and bashes, I…want…comfort. But I don’t want to look like a dork either.
I tried to go the fashionable route without the comfort recently when my wife and I went to one of LA’s more upscale department stores in search of some new attire for me. She found a pair of pants and held it up for my inspection.
“Nice color,” I said.
“Right waist and inseam.”
“They look skinny though.”
“They are…they’re skinny jeans.”
“They’re not me.”
“C’mon, just try them on.”
“You’re desperate for some amusement, aren’t you?”
I got into them…after about five minutes of squirming and struggling to do so. I Frankenstein-walked out to the waiting area. “Oh yeah, reallllllllll comfortable.”
My wife stifled a laugh. “Turn around.”
I stiffly shuffled around.
“You know, standing there you look great,” she said as she looked me up and down.
“If standing is all I’ll do, I’ll be fine. It’s sitting and moving and eating that’ll present a problem.” Upon closer inspection in the mirror I became even more unhappy. “And hey…my ankles look fat.”
“Well, they feel fat.”
“Okay, take them off and we’ll find a regular fit, same color.” She started to walk away but realized I hadn’t moved. “You ready to get going?”
“I can’t…my circulation’s stopped flowing.”
“Well, just take one baby step and you can topple over into the changing room. Meanwhile, I’ll go find some other pants for you.”
After more wiggling and shaking just to get out of the skinny jeans, my wife came over with a pair of pants more to my liking: Levis 514 jeans. Right color, inseam and waist size.
And not a waste of my time trying to get into and out of.