OK, I admit, that's a terribly loaded question. Of course my new jeans make my ass look old. Y'know why? Because my ass is horridly old. I actually tuck it into my socks. Yeah, I know, not pretty. Damned near every mirror in our apartment is cloaked in black draping. This place looks like a scene out of the death of Lincoln...
A little over a year ago I bumped up from a 32 inch waist to a 33 inch waist. For about 3 months. I'm apparently in the process of dropping a bit of poundage. Now I have actually been known to have my 32 inch jeans drop to my knees while I fight my way through Woodmans. Again, not pretty. And it tends to slow me down in the bread aisle. I hate that.
So, off to Kohls I go for some new jeans, waist size 31 inches. What a bloody fucking nightmare!!! OK, I'm a Levi's guy. They fit me. Fuck Lee Jeans!!! They're crap. Then there are Wrangler's. OK, I love Wrangler's. On someone else. Yes, Wrangler butts do indeed drive me nuts. They're cut differently, to enhance the ass. I LOVE THAT!!! They're cut to cup the buttocks like nothing I have ever seen before. They are designed to make you fit a saddle comfortably. All well and good, but the last time I "saddled up" was in 1973 when I was taking riding lessons in college. And that was English style riding so I don't think that counts. About the only thing Wrangler's do for my ass is ride up them. And not in that good way that I like, if you know what I mean...
Back to Levi's. Have any of you ever read the inside labels on a pair of Levi's lately? They are now made is just about every pronouncable country on the face of the planet except the US. Nicaragua. Guatemala. Argentina. Sri Lanka. Pakistan. And there is apparently not a damned ruler or measuring tape in any of these places. Every pair of 31/32's I tried on was wrong in some form or another. Right waist, wrong length. Wrong waist, right length. Wrong both. I quickly found myself up to my tits in denim in the dressing room, awash in Third World mis-measurements. Finally, I found a pair of 32/34's from Bangladesh (I'm serious!!!) that fit me perfectly. I clutched those things to my breast like they were the Shroud of Turin and tossed them into my shopping basket. Yes, success!!!
This morning I did laundry. I washed them in cold and dried them on low to maintain their "integrity", i.e., fit, and guess what??? They came out perfectly. They fit me like they were tailored for me. No shrinkage!!!
Well... Almost no shrinkage. That little tailored opening at the top of the zipper that the tab goes through to close them at the waist shrank. So much so that I am now unable to fit the tab through to properly close them!!! FUCK ME TO BLOODY god DAMNED TEARS!!! In quiet desperation I just gave up. They fit, I told myself. And then I broke out the scissors and cut the opening open. Let it fray, I told myself. I'm too fucking old to look cool and tailored. Hell, I'm too old to still be standing upright without an infrastructure or an assistant. Or at least a crane. Maybe mag-lev would work... Yes, I now wear both a belt AND suspenders. I have become my great-grandpa Henry... And he was nuts. Lovable but nuts. I hope I carry on his tradition. In dysfunctional Levi 505's. I no longer want to be shot out of a cannon, I wish to be tossed out of a trebuchet. Across the Mexican border. Hopefully packed with illegal substances.... Lots of them!!! Tucked into whatever space may be left in my socks. Just to give them back...
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