The new pants

Over the past few years, I have been acutely aware of the bodily changes that so cruelly accompany my advancing age. My good wife of 30 years frequently reminds me of this phenomenon, and as a result, I find myself in fleeting moments of concern regarding my appearance.



Well, the other night, we went shopping for some clothes for Pam, but as it turned out, I, being in dire need of pants that don't look like clown cast offs (extra baggy) or bell bottoms, found myself looking at some new pants. Now being an aged man, I have become a fan of comfort over style, much to the shagrin of my entire family. Knowing that the family thinks that my wardrobe is stuck in a timewarp, I, with great determination in my heart and various pants draped over my arm, marched forth looking for the nearest fitting room. After trying on about 7 or 8 pairs of pants (some too long, some too tight, some too clowny, some with crotch to knees), I picked out a few that I felt would pass muster with Pam. She was quite pleased with my selection, but as one might guess, I was sent back for a few more before she was completely satisfied. There were three pairs that actually looked good! As a matter of fact, they made me look like I had a posterior the likes of which I haven't seen since my fading memory can recall. I know, I know... there was no real subtance, just cloth and some added air, but really, it looked kind of normal, except for the length of the legs, which is always the case for me.



Pam was very excited at the thought that I might look like a person from this century and took the initiative to arrange alterations for the new clothes. She called a tailor, made the arrangements and after several and increasingly intense promptings, gave me good directions on how get to the tailor shop; so I took a break from a little project I had started and off I went. As I entered the tailor shop, I saw a middle aged asian woman whom I suspected to be the tailor based on Pam's phone call and little clues like the measuring tape around her neck and the pincusion on her wrist. She kindly called me Honey and invited me to take a seat while she finished with her current patrons. Being familiar with asian women, I have also witnessed changes in their figures with age and couldn't help but notice that this lady defied the trends that I had heretofor witnessed. Most of us older asians, men and women alike, tend to lose our shape and start to look like frumpy sacks of flour with age, but this woman who was an obvious benefactor of surgical enhancement looked like a stick with large breasts.



Far be it from me to be judgemental, but if I was to venture a guess, this was a woman who was in her mid-forties, but was trying very hard to look like she was still in her twenties. She dressed young, her makeup and hairstyle etc. all looked a bit out of place, but as I said before, far be it from me to judge... Anyway, the other two ladies left and I went into the dressing room which was actually a closet with a curtain that only partially closed and proceeded to change into the new pants. I emerged with thoughts of just getting the fitting over as quickly as possible and returning to my unfinished project back at home.



The tailor started to measure the lengths of the pants while making small talk; you know, the usual banter:



tailor - "are you Chinese?"

me - "no, my grandparents all came from Japan, how about you?"

tailor - "I came from Korea. Where do you live?"

me - "um just up the street; pretty close."

tailor - "do you live alone?"

me - "uh no."



Do I live alone?... What kind of a question is that? Shrugging it off as just a dumb question, my attention was then turned to back to the lady when she told me that the seat of the pants needed to be taken in. Now, as I said before, I know comfort, nothing about how pants should fit, so OK, whatever... What happened next reminded me of an episode of "Friends" where Joey sends Chandler to his tailor. In that particular episode, the tailor took the opportunity to grope Chandler. Well, this woman proceeded to touch my backside in a way that was second only to the doctor at my last colonoscopy. She didn't simply adjust the back seam, she also smoothed the fabric and made sure that the crotch fit too. I couldn't imagine why in the world she couldn't just put a little chalk mark on the pants like the men tailors. That's not all, it was not just one pair of pants, but all three. I paid the charge for the alterations and left feeling violated and very cheap.



I told Pam about the incident and said that I wasn't sure whether or not this lady was trying something funny. After she got through laughing about my embellished story, she assured me that it was not all incidental. This morning she told me that she even had a dream about it last night (with grin on her face). The pants will be ready for pick-up next Saturday but I don't expect that it will be as eventful as yesterday's experience, especially when I take Pam with me.

By the way, does anyone know a good male tailor?