February 2004

Who wears the pants when they won't fit?

By Gail Binkly

I hate getting dressed any more,
fat,” I complained to my
other day.

“You’re not that fat,” he
brief pause.

Any of you readers w
know there was one word
his statement.

“Excuse me?” I grated thro
teeth.

“Well,” he said slowly, “
would sound more credible
you’re not fat at all.”

“Who just tried to get into
his old jeans with the 29-in
couldn’t because they were too tig
snapped.

“You couldn’t fit into them, eithe
pointed out.

It was true. David and I
been lucky in that we’ve been
into each other’s pants. Ear
relationship we discovered
the same size Levi’s, whi
wardrobe was interchangea
less. On those days when ev
own is in the laundry basket, itR
be able to delve into someone
closet.

Of course, women’s pant
tighter in the waist and looser
than men’s, which can cau
When David first came to Cortez,
a pair of my black jean
a job interview. Afterward, h

waist
he f
we
girdle – &#
like
in
later episode
commented.

“W
something,&#
firmly
the too
slacks in my hand.

“We’re
fat.
going to turn into apples.”

“Apples?”

“You know, those apple-s
they’re always going on abo
magazines – the ones that have
risk of heart attacks.”

“I read that it’s normal to ga
you grow older,” David replied im
“Your metabolism changes.”

“I don’t want an old person’s bo
argued. “Let’s go on the Atkins diet.”

“We’re vegetarians,” he pointed out.

“What would we eat – pounds of tofu?”

“Then let’s try the detox
“Is that where you g
detox?” he asked impishly.

“It’s a diet to detoxify your bo
said. “I cut the article out o
Here, I’ll get it.” I found the
began reading the detox diet’
to him. “For breakfast the fi
have quinoa and boiled vegeta
David looked unhappy. “
quinoa?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. I think it’s a grain.”

“Ugh.”

“For mid-mornin
get…hmm…the water left o
boiled vegetables.” My
wavering rapidly.

David shuddered. “C’mon, letR
an ice-cream sundae.”

“See! Right there. That’s why
gaining weight. It’s not
metabolisms are changing –
much! Ten years ago, I could
whole calzone or an ent
cheesecake. Now I say, ‘Bring it on!’.”

“Why do you care? You’re healthy.”

“You don’t understand, because
a man,” I sighed. “But if you̵
in America, worrying about
is an everyday thing. We all
the body of Britney Spears
Aguilera.”

“I can’t imagine anyone any
to live with than some dumb,
singer,” David said ̵
himself for his earlier remark. “I&#
you what. We’ll go through
and take all the clothes that donR
more and give them to the
“I think we are the poor..”

“Well, we’ll give them t
poor. And we’ll wear the thi
and not worry about it any mor
began pawing through his closet.
do you want these corduroy slacks?”

“What’s the matter with them?
suspiciously. “Are they too
won’t fit me, either.”

“No, they just look kind
me. They’re too short.”

I studied them. They we
cords, well-made and attracti
be easy to let the cuffs out.
and tried them on.

“Guess what!” I cried, comi
his room. “They fit!”

“That’s great.”

“I mean, they fit you and
We still wear the same size, only it̵
size now.”

“Then if one of us los
couldn’t wear the same s
could we?” he said with an air
“Let’s go get some ice cream. We&
that fat.”

“Bring it on,” I replied.

Gail Binkly is a free-lanc
editor of the Free Press.