Sunday, January 11, 2009
Come a Long Way . . .
I once strained to fit in to a size 70 pant. That is 70 . . . as in 70 inches. As in two inches short of six feet. As in deep enough to dive in a hotel pool. As in almost tall enough to be a male model. As in nearly long enough to be the measure of good coffin depth in the ground. As in . . . you get the point.
In all actually, at 5' 11", I was "as big around as I was tall" for a good part of my late-20s and the first few months of my 30s too.
Not so much any more.
Thanks to the strong/stretching nature of denim, I was able to swing by my friendly neighborhood Gap today (to shop the "end of season" sales, of course) and I was able to fit in to a size 38 pair of "low rise, boot fit" (whatever the hell that even means) jeans.
And I could inhale deeply and exhale deeply in them. And sit. And walk/run in place. And squat. And lift my knees all the way up to chest level. And put stuff in the pockets. And take this crappy picture of myself on my equally crappy cell phone camera (don't look too closely at the photo - you will be able to see my Bilbo Baggins inspired foot hair and my freakish looking big/next biggest toe split on my left foot).
For $30, I should have picked them up but I've already got my eye on a pair of shoes that I plan to blow my January "fun" money on!
It is unthinkable to me that I wore a pant that was in the 30s today. I was in seventh grade or so (I think) when I crossed the 40 threshold.
20 years later . . . it feels damned good to be "in my 30s."