Layce’s parents were coming over for dinner and I wanted to look nice plus it was an excuse to try out my new black pants. I had gone shopping by myself and found the essential part of any wardrobe—black trousers. I was pleased with myself. I’m wardrobe-challenged so Layce usually picks out my clothes.
The black pants I’d chosen fit well, not too tight around the waist and the butt had some room—perfect. I chose a gray sweater after trying on a blue one, a green one and a red one. I even took the time to look in the mirror before I came downstairs. I was satisfied—even excited because usually my outfits aren’t the best combos. I figured I couldn’t go wrong with this one.
“What do you think?” I asked Layce. She was making dinner.
She stood back and took me in. She came over and pulled on the sides of the pants. She wrinkled her brow, stood back again and said, “You need to pull them up higher and wear a belt.”
“I like wearing them down lower. My tummy doesn’t like being smothered by pants.”
She stared at the poofy part of my pants. “You’re supposed to wear your pants up around your waist not hanging off your hips.”
Now she had me concerned about the poofy part that was sticking out on either side of my pants. “What are these?” I asked pulling on the fabric.
“Your hips are supposed to fill them out but you don’t have hips. Pull the pants up where they’re supposed to be and you won’t have Oompa Loompa pants.”
“These aren’t Oompa Loompa pants,” I said indignantly. “Are they?” I was losing confidence with my choice of pants.
I pulled them up around my waist. I pulled them down around my hips. Down seemed to make them less Oompa Loompa-ish. “See they’re better this way,” I said.
“Yeah, well, I can see your crack now. Next time I need a plumber I’ll call you.”
“What should I do?”
“Get new pants.”
I went upstairs and changed. Getting dressed was always going to be a challenge for me. I should’ve let her pick out the pants. But left to my own devices…