In search of…

J’s green cargo pants (the ones we got to replace the beloved original green cargo pants that, ultimately, fell apart after years of abuse) are ready to give up the ghost.  Finding a replacement isn’t easy.  The brand is sold everywhere, but not farther up than a size 40 waist, which means we’re traveling in search of pants.  This morning I spent some time looking for pants online, and I definitely can order them from several websites, but I’d rather have J try them on and determine if it’s yea or nay on whatever style we find.

In the meantime, I am going to (as I tend to do whenever the need arises) mend the pair he’s madly in love with until we can find a suitable replacement.  J’s love for these pants is so great that instead of seeing a sack of ugly, mended fabric, he sees Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas.  images

As long as he’s happy and he has pants to wear, I’m ok with the mending and darning that’s going on, but the pants do need replacing, and that’s what we’re aiming for this upcoming weekend.  Family road trip.  Pants-buying road trip.

After spending the better part of Saturday morning looking for pants that would fit, we all walked away from the stores frustrated.  All we could find that J would like was two sizes too small…and there are remedies for too big, but there is no immediate fix for too small.  As we walked out of the last store we went to, I told J “look, buddy, we’re ALL going to have to exercise.  I have these pants I ordered online that are the right size but…” and I made a bloated face and used my arms to show how paunchy my paunch is inside them.  Famous last words spoken while leaving a store…this morning J dragged me to the garage and we did California Gurls on his Just Dance (and I miraculously survived the experience) and then we did the Long run from the Wii Fit Plus.  Mind you, to get J to move in the way he’s supposed to, I have to vastly exaggerate my speed and movements or else he’ll walk in place in a very leisurely fashion.

I flatly refuse to buy bigger pants than he wears now.  I am not concerned about his appearance, but I do believe that we have to help him get smaller for his health…  I can promise you that he is doing a lot better in terms of endurance, but with the colder weather approaching quite quickly, we see more indoor time ahead of us, and it’s best to establish the exercise routine and movement habits now than wait ’til later.  And I really need to fit into those pants…not that I don’t FIT into them, but they’re basically flannel-lined mom jeans that -regrettably- assume one’s waist is as high and as slim as the ladies’ in the catalog.  I am not the reed-thin, long and lanky type…I’m wider, more anchored to the ground…the pants fit beautifully everywhere except the waist.  So I’m guessing that for the waist to not pinch, I have about five to ten pounds I need to shed…

The other side of the coin, friends, is that I ordered three lovely pairs of leggings that fit wonderfully from the thighs to the ankles.  The waist, however, seems to be sized for clown-pants.  How did this happen?  Well…you know that whole thing about how we see ourselves one way and buy clothes for that???  I bought them XL because, silly me, that’s what I think I wear.   In this world, a woman wearing size 12 pants is considered plus-sized, and I bought them for what the measurements in the size-chart indicated…XL.  I cannot believe that three pairs of leggings from a reputable brand would all be defective in the same way so I made a mistake or…it COULD happen…my measuring tape is a cheating, two-timing, two-faced liar and vile betrayer…  The worst part is that if the legs fit perfectly in the XL, they would probably be too tight in a Large…and, no, running the pants through the washer and dryer did nothing to shrink them.  (That’s what happens when you get a guarantee that they won’t.)

So J and I are both having pants issues.  I can cover my bunchy ones with tunics and long sweaters, and he has to wear his patched up ones until we find others he will love even remotely as much as he loves those.  The shopping trip will also serve the purpose of finding for Dada shirts with longer sleeves (he thinks his arms are growing because all his shirts seem to be too short in the sleeves all of a sudden) and an alternative pair of shoes that J can wear for warmth, but not necessarily for snow.  On Friday, you see, he went up to his annual class picnic wearing sandals and socks because he cannot be persuaded to wear closed-toe shoes until there’s snow on the ground.  Such is the way of the J-dictated wardrobe.  The folks at What Not To Wear would have crawled into the fetal position if faced with this challenge…starting with the hats and working down to the shoes…

One thing can be said about J: he knows what he likes, and he sticks to it like glue.  It’s not just that he’s comfortable in those pants: he has a relationship with them.  Granted, it the same type of relationship a three year-old has with their favorite blankie, but it’s a relationship nonetheless.  If something doesn’t fit, he doesn’t wear it; if he doesn’t like a garment, or if he’s not ready to wear it, he ignores it, sets it aside, shuns it like it plague-ridden.  He doesn’t care about fashion because J has what most people aspire to: style.  Granted, there are glitches in his style, but it’s style nonetheless.  And his style is currently running around with one out of three pairs of pants at risk of falling to pieces sooner rather than later.

They say your clothes shouldn’t wear you, and they’re right…and J, better than anyone I know, embodies the notion of wearing the clothes rather the other way around, but he’s run them ragged and to the point of disintegration.  This process would be easier if J himself was in the “two sizes smaller” department.  The .35 mg of med that we’ve reduced has controlled his weight, but it hasn’t really done much in terms of weight loss.  Perhaps the next .25 will help more???  Nearly two months to go until then…let’s cross our fingers that our search for pants is successful…



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