Are My Pants Sliding Down Because I’m Losing Weight Or Simply Because My Stomach Fattitude Is Pushing Them Down?
I decided a few months ago that as much as I loved trying to squeeze the organs of my body from their natural positions in my body to other locations in order to fit into pants that I had long shall we say, “grown” out of, I broke down and bought what I was determined to be only three pair of “fat pants” that would grace my wardrobe. As time has gone on I would like to say that I’ve stopped wearing these pants and am back into the slimmer pants that hang in my closet mocking me each morning as I get dressed but now I find that out of a five day work week, the fat pants are worn three sometimes four and on occasion five days a week. However, I recently noticed something about them and now I’m wondering are my pants sliding down because I’m losing weight or simply because my stomach fattitude is pushing them down? – Don’t Get Me Started!
Look, I’m short. While I like to say I’m 5’5” the truth of the matter is that no one in my immediate family has ever seen it to 5’5” and in fact the older we get the more we shrink until I’m convinced that at some point my family will have its own reality show, something akin to the one on the TLC network except ours will be called, “Little Jewish People, Annoying World.” When you’re short you have plenty of clothing complications that most likely could be solved by a good tailor but where would the fun be in solving the problem and not kvetching about it? Most of the pants in the world are designed for people with high “rises” for some reason so I often find myself looking similar to the character “Todd” from Saturday Night Live that Bill Murray played. You know, the waist of the pants seem to hover somewhere right under my nipples. If I put the waist of the pants on my actual waist then I have a crotch/zipper that goes almost to my knees and then I have to deal with all the feelings of inadequacy that my shall we call it “manhood” isn’t large enough to require a fourteen inch zipper down to my knee. Needless to say, it’s a lot of pressure and not a lot of fun to clothes shopping with me.
So while I’ve been wearing the fat pants, I’ve begun to worry (as only I can do) a lot. I worry that I’m going to be complacent with my weight until I get to the point where I’m wearing elastic waist Sans-A-Belt pants from my father’s closet. I worry that the proportion is all wrong so that I look like an ice cream cone with my fat dripping over the waist of the pants and the legs of the pants tapering down to cone-like legs. And what I can only assume well endowed porn stars go through with deciding whether to dress their “equipment” left or right, I find myself doing with my stomach. Do the pants go strictly on my waist or do I pull them up a bit creating a waistband “equator” which may suck in my gut a little thanks to the belt but also makes me look as though I’m the Blueberry girl from Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory needing to go to the “juicing room” to be de-juiced? I’ll sit at my desk for an hour with the “equator” look and then (usually after lunch) the pants go down to my waist where I feel the waistband of the pants curling over on itself, sagging under the weight of the stomach sticking over it. Let’s face it, it’s a lose lose situation here.
What amazes me more than anything is the hope I feel (hope or denial? I choose hope). As the pants slide once more from their original intended position I think to myself, “Wow, I must be losing some weight.” Mind you I haven’t worked out in over week nor did I manage to push away the bag of Mint Milanos that somehow got fully ingested in just two days over the weekend when there is supposed to be something like twelve servings to the bag. The only way that I lost weight this weekend just lying around like a slug is if I have developed cancer or ingested a tapeworm while eating everything that wasn’t nailed down in my house. Still, even as I’m writing this I’m thinking that maybe I’ve lost some weight. Maybe I’ll go to gym tonight. Maybe I’ll get on the scale and be amazed that I’ve lost six pounds. Yeah, and maybe I’ll flap my arms and fly to the moon! Are my pants sliding down because I’m losing weight or simply because my stomach fattitude is pushing them down? – Don’t Get Me Started!
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- Some Like It Scott!
An acquired taste, like Tab cola, Some Like It Scott is one gay man's experiences with love, life and things that make him crazy, all done to a musical theatre soundtrack.
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