Paaaaaaants

Historically my relationship with pants has been…well, it’s been difficult. My particular combination of small waist, big butt, and cankles is challenging at best when it comes to pants, and I have spent much of my life searching fruitlessly for the perfect pair. I wear pants all the time, obviously, but there’s always been something not quite right: that weird pull right across the hips, or the dreaded low-rise crack gap, or the pockets that bunch and crumple the thigh line. They’re difficult to shop for and I rarely find a good pair.

Don’t get me wrong…I mean, I really like pants. Always have, always will. I am a pants lover, a pants believer, a pants advocate even. I have worn pants while climbing mountains, while mixing concrete by hand, while salsa dancing, while falling in love. I have worn pants while in bed and pants while in underground storm tunnels. Pants at the movies, pants at the beach. Pants drinking hot chocolate in Paris, eating gelato in Florence, and consuming fish and chips in London. Pants have been with me through it all, you know? Pants and I are close.

And yet, I have to admit, during all the time I have been a pants wearer, I have been slightly uneasy. Pants are clearly in charge. Pants decide how good I look on any given day, not me. They decide if they’re going to ride up or slip down or cut me a break for once and just stay where they’re supposed to stay. Pants, I’m not afraid to divulge, are moody and pants are fickle. Oh, they love me, sure, but they’re not in love with me. That much is clear. I stick around though because I don’t have much choice, and pants know it. “Where you gonna go?” pants taunt as I rifle through my drawers, tears running down my cheeks as I search for a pair that will make my ass look ever so slightly smaller than my living room couch. “Where you gonna run? To skirts? Wait till October, bitch, then you’ll be back.” And pants are right. I may flirt with skirts and have long lazy sunny days where they caress my knees and ankles and tell me I’m pretty, but pants are always in the background, leering at me, reminding me who’s boss. Pants wear the pants in our relationship, and they never let me forget it.

So it is with great joy and triumph that I announce that yesterday I scored four pairs. Of pants. Four pairs of pants. Do you understand what this means? Do you even \\know\\ when the last time I walked into a store and got four pairs of pants…all of which fit me? No? That’s because it’s never happened before. I have so many pants. I have black pants and green pants and blue pants and gray pants. I have spent much of the day planning out what pants I will wear each day this week, with which tops and shoes. I am not ashamed to admit I have been conducting a private one-woman Pants Fashion Show, right here on the beach in my room, turning this way and that, murmuring little love words to my pants. Oh, pants. I never knew it could be this way. I guess I’m just bitter but never occurred to me that one person could have within her wardrobe pants that were appropriate for multiple social occasions and that fit well and addressed the waist/ass/cankle triumverate of treachery. My third dresser drawer is full of pants. I have a surfeit thereof. In fact I have to lie down for a minute as I am getting dizzy from all these pants everywhere. Calm down, pants! You will all get your turn!

Pants, I wrote you a poem. I hope you don’t think that’s weird.

Pants, you
fill the empty spaces
between my
aforementioned cankles and aforementioned waist.
I am not mentioning my butt again
because,
frankly,
the less said about that the better.
I
just want you to know that
you are
everything I have ever wanted
in reasonably priced casual wear
and I
hope I can make all your dreams come true
and I also
hope
you stand up to the permanent press cycle on
our dryer
because it’s just really very hot
and I don’t want to actually cook you or anything
I will line dry you if that’s what it takes to keep you
happy
pants, dear pants

It’s a brand new day with me and pants, my friends. It’s a new stage in our relationship, I can feel it. It’s going to be all about mutual respect and shared responsibility from here on out, I just know it. I’ll take care of the pulling on and off and I guess also the whole belt thing, and pants will take care of the rest. I can look ahead to a bright future where all people all over the world, from every culture and background, regardless of circumstance, have access to pants. Pants for justice, pants for harmony, pants for peace. Pants for all who yearn for pants.

Pants. Pants pants pants pants PANTS!

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