Black Wednesday

I recently started back at work full time, in the office. I quickly realized that after taking a year off, I was running really low on work-appropriate clothes. My shirts were stained, ratty or both and all my pants were worn looking and fit kinda funny. I looked like a homeless guy impersonating an office worker.

So I met up with my wife for lunch and we went on a shopping trip. Shopping for me has always been pretty easy. I've worn the same size clothes for like 15 years. I quickly went through the racks, picked out some clothes and headed for the dressing room. That's when it all went wrong.

I tried the first pair of pants. Hmmmm...a little tight....must be the brand.

I tried the next pair of pants......Are you sure this is the right size?? I quickly checked the label and confirmed that yes...the pants were my size.

I tried the third pair. I thought, "You have got to be fucking kidding me!" I tried sucking in, but that wasn't an effective long term solution. I reflected on the number of times since I started working again that I had untucked my shirt and taken my belt off in the car on the way home, then raced to change immediately on entering the house. It wasn't the old pants...nothing shrunk. It was me.

Do they make grown up pants in Husky sizes????

My wife, aware of the lapse in time since I had gone in there, tapped on the door, "Everything OK?"

Never...in my life, since maybe I was 16 did I have to utter these word....

"Uhhhh.....(deep breath)....I think I need the next size up."

Not that anybody does....but I really don't want a gut. For as long as I can remember, I have always been able to eat whatever the hell I want, and still wear my pants from 10 years ago. Its more than just a pants size, it's a lifestyle. A bag of Keebler Chocolate Lovers Cookies and 12 pack of High Life a week, limited exercise - that's how I roll. I don't want to diet and I don't want to feel compelled to exercise.

As my wife searched for the Husky size, I began to hear murmers and sounds reverberating through the changing area.

It was every other boring, overweight and underpaid sales guy with a gut and an ugly shirt saying, " Welcome to the Club! What took you so long?....Want a Twinkie? Have I told you about my Fantasy Football team yet? "

It was the sound of thousands of attractive women getting a little more disinterested. Assuming of course they could be any less interested in a 30 something, married, bald guy with outrageous debt and bad teeth.

It was the Grim Reaper snickering from the other stall, laughing at the passing of my invincibility. "I've been waiting for you..." he commented with an outstretched boney finger.

My wife dutifully returned with the next size. Much to my dismay, they fit. In fact, they felt great.

Time to find some ugly shirts.