I’ve rotated our cold-weather clothes with our warm-weather clothes so many years, I could do it in my sleep. From the looks of some of our clothes, I may have been doing it in my sleep.
Neither the husband nor I are clothes horses. We’re more like clothes turtles.
I could use some new pants, but I’m waiting until the styles change. The big trend in pants is exactly that. Big pants. They call them wide-leg. I call them big enough for me and a friend.
I’m happy for those who can wear wide-leg and barrel pants. I’m just not in the “in group.”
One of the hazards of being short is that wide-leg pants can quickly turn you into a virtual square. That said, elephant-leg pants do not make me look like an elephant. More like a baby hippo.
Women who can wear wide-leg pants glide, float and move with grace as they sweep across the floor. Yours truly in wide-leg pants is more like a push broom that can’t gain traction.
Palazzo pants are long, wide, flowy and shout, “Gondola ride in Italy, followed by cannoli.” I can’t wear palazzo pants; but I love the name. By the way, “palazzo” is Italian for “palatial building.” Why, yes, I think I’ll buy some palatial-building-size pants today. “Oh miss, do these come in the Trump Tower size?”
It doesn’t help to pull big pants up higher. A waistband around your neck tends to draw attention, and not the flattering kind.
Sorting our winter and summer clothes from his and her boxes, I hurriedly grabbed a pair of navy blue chino shorts and slipped them on. The weight loss was shocking. They hung below my knees. I’d lost a dramatic amount of height as well as weight! Then it dawned on me that I had dumped the tubs holding his clothes and my clothes into one big heap. I had grabbed his shorts, not mine.
All thoughts of an extra-large pizza and intentions of adding ice cream to the grocery pickup order immediately vanished.
My husband has no interest in shopping for clothes or buying clothes. To his knowledge, he has not bought more than three or four shirts, two pairs of pants and one sports jacket in our entire marriage.
I buy his clothes and quietly replace the old with the new. He thinks he’s easy on clothes and I let him. Why spoil 47 years of wardrobe happiness?