Gaining Weight and Losing Pants
I keep trying to lose weight but it keeps finding me.
I need to lose some weight. Last week-end I was rummaging through every closet and drawer in my house, in an attempt to find my snow pants. I was looking forward to an upcoming cross-country ski trip to Mono Nordic Ski Club, with my students.
I always enjoy skiing with the kids and was looking forward to an afternoon of hitting the trails. I became increasingly frantic as I realized my favourite pants were nowhere to be found.
I tore through every room in the house. I searched down the basement and underneath the stairs. I foraged in the furnace room and combed through the garage but my efforts were unsuccessful.
Where could my beloved pants be? I dreaded trying to replace them. It took me several shopping trips to find them. The clothing industry is not that accommodating to plus-sized folks like me and outdoor-clothing stores are pretty limited, here in our rural winter wonderland.
I sat pondering my dilemma, when suddenly a gust of cold air blew into the house, followed by my husband Darrel. He had just returned from a snowmobile trail ride with his buddies, He was in full snowmobile garb, looking rosy-cheeked and content. As he removed his jacket, my eyes fell upon his pants – or rather my pants!
I didn’t know whether to be happy or angry. I pointed and squealed and told him that I’d been hunting everywhere for the pants that were on his legs.
Darrel was insistent that the pants belonged to him. He claimed he’d been wearing them all winter. He bragged about the fact that the alleged pants were so “nice and roomy” and allowed him the “flexibility to maneuver his machine through ice and snow”.
I explained to him that his black pants were down the basement, covered in spider webs and dust. I had noticed them hanging there, while I was conducting my frantic search.
He appeared not to hear my pleas. He looked at me with indifference, removed the pants, hung them on a hook, and lovingly patted them.
I strode across the room to inspect the pants. They were covered in mud, grease, and engine oil. They smelled like his snowmobile pants. On closer inspection, however, it became apparent that the pants in question were definitely Lady’s attire.
I yanked them from the hook and could immediately see that they were a feminine, lower-cut style with small “girlie” brass buttons. The label in the back was emblazoned with the name of a popular Woman’s clothing store. Ah ha! I brandished this final piece of proof into Darrel’s astonished face.
He looked a tad sheepish as he slowly accepted the truth. He’d spent the winter wearing his wife’s pants! What he didn’t realize was that his embarrassment was minor compared to how I was feeling.
I pushed by him and headed to the laundry room where I washed my beloved pants – twice. Once they were freshly washed and dried, I mended the hems. The stitching had obviously been jarred loose by the manly sport they had been subjected to.
I was finally good to go. The mystery of the missing pants was solved and I was ready for the ski-trip. Or – so I thought.
An hour later, Darrel was surprised to find the freshly washed and repaired pants back on the hook, alongside his snowmobile jacket. I told him that I was going to go shopping for some new pants—blue ones—to match my ski-jacket. I explained that the black pants looked better on him. He just shrugged nonchalantly. He knew better than to ask any questions. He’s learned that after 32 years of marriage, you don’t always need to know.
The truth is – when I finally stepped into my cherished pants, after all of the searching, washing, and mending, I was surprised to discover they were too s-m-a-l-l for me. I pulled and pushed and pleaded but they stubbornly refused to budge. No amount of wiggling, writhing, and wrestling could convince those pants to return to their rightful owner.
Yes indeed – I need to lose some weight.