We all have benchmarks. Things that we measure the rest of lives against. One of the benchmarks in my life in 38/30. That is the pants size that I hold as the standard. I usually have to buy pants that are bigger in the waist because my legs are real slabs of meat. They create an optical illusion that hasn’t done me many favours. I digress. I don’t ever remember wearing pants that were smaller than that. I certainly must have because I haven’t always been as tall or rotund as I am now.
In the years prior to Operation 180, I slowly got further away from my 38/30 benchmark. Its like driving away from your house, you can still see in your rearview but you know you’re driving to work. Well, I got to work. I couldn’t see 38/30 in my rearview anymore. It was one of the most disappointing things about gaining weight. Its tough to buy pants. Thirty is one of the shorter lengths of pant that you can find in normal stores. As the waist measurement grows, your options get smaller and smaller. You can find 40s and 42s but they carry lengths of 32 or 34. Big pants for big boys. Then you have to get them hemmed. Pain in the ole 44 inch ass.
As I crept into the 42s, I still held onto some 38s. My expanding girth probably stretched them, but I would flop the gut up, do the pants up underneath and then breathe out. It was like Braveheart out there, “Hold. Hold. Hold.” When you would undo them it was like the game of Perfection. The timer would go off and shit would fly everywhere. Then you would have to put it all back together.
I am now back comfortably in my ole 38s. Not sure what I will do with the 42s I bought for work but it feels good to be at the benchmark. I may have to move into new territory. Maybe I can I go into the GAP and not have the heroin-chic worker look at me with that “We don’t have a husky boys section” look.
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