For some strange reason, the missus doesn’t want to be seen with me when I wear these jeans.
Granted, they were too large for me even BEFORE I lost 50 pounds after my little heart episode, but they’re so darned COMFORTABLE. The outseam is 43 inches at the bottom of the bobbie-pinned cuff, the waist is 66, leaving at least six inches to be taken up with my underwidth belt. I guess I DO sort of look like a fat, puckered-around-the-waist scarecrow when I wear them, but I love the room in the seat and the thigh.
In order to cut costs, the Chinese company that makes them took eight inches out of the seat and four inches from each thigh, but left the waist the same. Naturally, when I checked out a smaller waist size, the butt and thigh sections were smaller too, so I now have to order online from a different company. I’ve bought two pair from them so far, but neither are as comfortable as this old pair and the two others like them. So, I keep patching and patching, using fabric glue.
For now, I wear one pair or the other every day that the missus doesn’t absolutely DEMAND that I put on a newer pair (like on the rare occasions when we go to a restaurant). Furthermore, I won’t let her wash them until they’re thoroughly dirty, giving her even more cause for concern. Too much washing and they’d come apart, though.
So, I wear my fat-boy jeans with pleasure and just let the missus skulk around avoiding me in public. I guess that I DO actually get it; I’m just too self-centered to be uncomfortable out of politeness. I may be a bum, but at least I’m comfortable. Copyright 2018