Jeans

When I was younger, I used to go with my dad to buy blue jeans. Normally, I wouldn't say "blue jeans," I'd just say "jeans." But in dad's case, blue jeans was absolutely correct. My dad used to buy the bluest, rawest jeans he could find. They'd stand up on their own and still had enough dye to stain your legs the first time you wore them. My dad would slide those babies off at the end of their first wear, and he'd look like Papa Smurf (minus the fluffy white beard...all other physical characteristics applied.)

Dad even took me to a special store to buy his jeans. The store took half an hour to drive to and wasn't near any malls or other stores. He was always looking for the ever elusive "34-29" size. As a rule, when your waist is bigger than your inseam, you might have a problem. But when the inseam is 29, not so much. Anorexic dwarfs are few and far between.

The jean store sold every imaginable size, shape, and color of jeans. They sold gigantic jeans for heavy folks, overalls for the Hoosier farmer, and really, really blue ones for dad. They also sold a lot of other fashionable stuff like oversized belt buckles and those swingin' "jean slacks" for the older set.

I should have known my dad would have pant issues early on. My grandfather once sent my mom and I looking for size 40-30 "jean slacks" for Christmas one year. Why do older men like these things? They frequently have elastic waistbands and are washed until you can almost see through the fabric. Comfort and expandability -- I guess I just answered my own question.

The other necessity in a pair of jeans for an older man is that there be at least 18 inches of fabric between the waist band and the crotch. We used to have an older gentleman at church who would pull his pants all the way over his belly. He always seemed comfortable enough, but his zipper was about 3 feet long. He had to bend over to finish zipping up in the bathroom.

As I grow older, I'm finding my taste in jeans is changing as well. I used to spend a lot more on my jeans, but now, I just don't give a rip. Well, actually I do. I don't want ANY rips in my jeans when I drive them out of the store parking lot. If I'm spending money on clothes, I'll rip them myself when I fall off the roof or bend over to tie my shoes, thanks.

The last three pairs of jeans I purchased came from Wal-Mart. I'll admit it. I saw the Faded Glory tag and $12 price and couldn't resist. They looked just like all the OTHER jeans at Wal-Mart, so who cares? The only problem with the Faded Glorys is that they have really deep pockets. In one sense, they're really convenient because I can fit my iPod and cell phone in one pocket with no issue.

The only problem is I can't get my hand in far enough to get my keys out when I'm in the parking lot. I have to push my arm in up to my elbow to get to the bottom of the pocket, and then I have to fish around for a while looking for my keys. People look at you funny when you walk around with a hand in your pocket, wriggling all over the place like you're trying to take your pulse down there.

In any case, someone needs to stop me if I ever ask for denim Dockers for Christmas, and remind me that I'm not yet ready to shop at my dad's special jeans store.