My Retirement, Month 2

Starting the 2nd month of Retirement and doing OK.

Never buy pants without sitting down in them first.

Last week, on a very cold day (but without snow), I embarked on a shopping trip to an outside mall.  I needed to get some gifts for my granddaughter who was turning 10.  If you have been reading this blog, you will agree that I need to get out of the house - really bad!.  I was on a mission and passed by all the women's stores with their 50% off sale signs because I was there for one purpose only - for my sweet Emma.  However, a 70% off sign caught my eye, stopped me in my tracks and lured  me inside.  I had no intention of buying anything but "just look".  I am always attracted to black pants and have at least 10 of these hanging in my closets, but there is always room for one more.  I grabbed a few and off to the dressing room I went. Now this store is not exactly a BCBG or PacSun where hips can be no more than 32", but it was not a Lane Bryant either; it was a middle-age to mature woman's boutique.   The slacks easily went on, I did not have to lay on the floor and zip them up so things were going well.   They looked OK in the front and felt comfortable, but then I turned around.   The seat seemed to start at the back of my knees.  My body parts have dropped, but I did not think that far down.  The legs were so wide, that I could picture myself getting caught in them and falling down the stairs.  The small blurb in the paper would say, "elderly woman trips on her pants and taken to trauma center".  Sadly, I think I would probably be more traumatized by the word elderly attached to my name than breaking a few bones   Thinking this was just a particular style, I tried on another pair but the result was the same; I looked like a homeless person.  Out the store I ran and told the saleswoman that nothing fit.   I felt depressed and  decided not to ever go into that store again.  I went to the Tween store Justice and bought my Emma some "skinny jeans" and some shirts. Skinny jeans and spandex, words that I have outgrown in more ways than one.   On my way out of the mall I passed  Jones New York and decided to try again in the hopes that my future wardrobe would not include pants that look like potato sacks.   I was  checking  through the racks when the sales lady came up to me and said, "Ma'am, you are in the wrong department, the smaller sizes are in the front."  I could not have been more excited if I had been told that I had won the lottery, my whole mood changed instantly. Life was looking up!  I thanked the woman profusely and proceeded to shop my heart out.  Unfortunately, everything in there was made for a 5'8" woman (I'm 5'4 and shrinking by the moment), even the scarfs had to be wrapped around me a few times.  Now I am questioning about what she meant by small.  As I said, I was not out to shop for myself, but my pride was now on the line.  Onto my third store and one that always has jewelry that I like.  If nothing else fit, a necklace would. I found some black pants that said "tapered  and thought "that might work".  Into the dressing room I went with 3 pairs in hand. One looked just like the jeans that I had on so I eliminated that.  The other two seemed a little big, but put my tush back in an area that looked like the top of my legs. The sales lady knocked on my door and asked if she could help me.  I remembered what the lady in the 2nd store told me about my size and boldly asked for a 10.  A 10, it has such a nice sound, it is not a 6 like all first ladies wear (or say they wear), but it is not a 12, my size for the past few years.  I tried them on and I felt svelte and tall.  No hanging butt, no yards of material threatening my life, no turning pants up 4 inches on the bottom, I was thrilled.  They were not on sale, but who cares, they were a smaller size.  The jogging around the house was paying off!  The day had turned around, I had bought my granddaughter some gifts and I was walking out with two new pairs of black pants that would make me feel like a new woman. 

Then I went home and put one of them on to show hubby.  He did not notice, but then again, I always wear black or brown pants in the winter so I'll give him that.  However, I wanted him to compliment my new tall, thin appearance with no hang ass.  Alas, there was no reaction.  I went into the kitchen and sat down dejected.  All of a sudden a pain came over me; it was like a Slurpee headache in my stomach. I thought my eyeballs would pop out.  The pants had some kind of elastic that seemed not to expand when the body is put in a seating position.  They were pressing into every organ in my body.  I remembered that I was so happy about how I looked standing up in these sleek pants, I never thought of sitting down in them.  I am sure there is some defect in them.  I took them off, put on my full bodied sweats and had some M&Ms.  My new purchase is now hanging in the back of my closet waiting for the day that I will fit in them without pain or when I will go someplace where I will only be standing. 

I will tell you that the other pants I bought fit well and they do not inflict any suffering upon me.  I put them on before we went out on Saturday night and then hubby, instead of saying how good the slacks looked,  asked me when I was going to change into my clothes.  He did not notice how tall or thin I looked, he just thought I was still wearing my pajamas.   So much for style.

To the chagrin of my children, I am thinking of buying the new thing - the Pajama Jeans. If  these embarass them too much,  I can wear my Snuggie over them.