Friday, May 27, 2011

Pants on the Ground (A Rerun)

It's been a long day. The Littles have staged a nap revolt which is kicking my tail. Literally and figuratively. Mama's tired, but I can't leave that picture of a booger up all weekend, now can I? So here's a little something that I posted last year. Hope it gives you a giggle. I'm almost to the point where I can look back on it and laugh.

Almost.




One afternoon this off-season my husband declared he'd had enough. Nearly ten years of marriage and he just couldn't take it anymore. His exact words were

Will you please pull your pants up!?!

I just smiled at him and moved on, because I was doing all I could.

I had my belt on for crying out loud.

Later, I was reclining on the couch, reading the paper and I felt someone staring at me. I looked up to see my sweet man, leering over me, swinging an old phone charger cord. I was pretty sure he wasn't getting ready to strangle me, but I relaxed a little when he said

Stand up, I'm gonna measure you.

Well, sure you are honey. I'm sure that's exactly what Vera Wang uses in a pinch.

He "measured" my waist, my hips, my legs, my knees and my bust. The last one was purely for him.

Silly boy.

After calculating all of his very precise measurements and lots of deep sighing he came to a startling realization.

I was missing six inches in the booty department.

Stop laughing.

Most jeans have a difference of approximately 10 inches between the waist and the largest part of the hips.

I have four.

Which totally explains the parking lot incident.

Ready for this one? I was taking all three gals in for groceries and knew I needed a cart. So I had a baby on each hip and Lainey holding my back jean pocket.

It was a fool-proof plan.

Until she tripped.

And pulled them down.

Which wouldn't have been a big deal except my panties went with them.

And I couldn't pull them up, because of said baby in each arm.

It's at this point that I would like to sincerely apologize to the mama walking behind us. Thank you for giggling quietly. Forgive me for mooning you. And your child. I hope you shielded her eyes from the glare. Here's hoping we never meet again. Ever.

I digress.

When my hubby gets something in his head, he doesn't relax until he knows everything about the subject. He researched inseams, pocket placement, proper measurement and things I didn't even know mattered. For a few days, I would find random pairs of pants lying on the bathroom floor where he had measured them.

And clearly forgotten to put them away.

I then knew he was completely serious when he mentioned a four letter word.

M-A-L-L.

For the record, in the twins entire first year of life we had been to the mall as a family exactly zero times.

So off we went. First stop, Chik-fil-A. Second stop, Macy's.

I tried on more jeans than I care to mention, but miracle upon miracles, there was a certain brand that FIT. I nearly shouted with joy. Until I saw the price tag. And then I teared up.

Those stinkin' dressing rooms can be such an emotional roller coaster.

But, what I didn't realize was this was purely research. My man had a plan.

It's called ebay.

So no more saggy bottom drawers for this mama. I am now the proud owner of three pairs of proper fitting jeans.

But I still wear a belt.

One can never be too careful.





2 comments:

  1. That's hilarious! I've got too much around the middle for my pants to even consider "falling" off or being pulled down for that matter - truthfully. I'm a tad envious...is that weird? Not of the moon sighting incident clearly but the whole skinny and husband pushing you to buy new clothes thing. Nice!

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  2. Those lunges are helping though aren't they? ;)

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