Apple Pants

I am an apple. I could have been a pear or a banana (some would say a chili pepper), but I am an apple. Back in the day, I would have been a beach ball (not a string bean or a pear, which is pretty universal). At my local Lane Giant, I’m a 20. Or a 2XL, or the second smallest size in the store. Let's not think about what I was 5 years ago, before marriage and kids (hint: a lot thinner).

So, I was thinking the other day, after buying and washing and wearing several pairs of shorts and capris from LG, how interesting it was (to me at least) that I had never unbuttoned any of my new pants. Here's the one advantage to being an apple - sucking in your gut allows your pants to just slip right on. Relax, and they are temporarily anchored. The flip side of that, of course, is that if you are already in the pants and accidentally suck it in, or walk around for too long with your arms full, or God forbid, try to run anywhere, your pants will drop to the floor without notice. Not an advantage.

Back before the kids and the fat arrived on the scene, this was never a problem. Sure, my pants would slip lower on occasion, but fall off? Never. Now, if I’m not wearing a belt (mental picture of beach ball bisected by belt), I can’t carry things 2-handed over long distances without danger of exposing my lovely, but expansive, derriere. No one would call me modest, but that’s taking things a little too far.

How have men done it all these centuries? Yes, plumber’s butt is definitely an issue here. Maybe that’s what suspenders are all about. Lord knows, over the last two years I’ve invented (in my head) plenty of contraptions to hold up my pants: my favorite is the mini-suspenders that clips to the front of the pants and the bottom of the bra. Undercover suspenders for the Dilbert or Binkley in all of us! So pretty. If any of you all feel like following through with that one, just cut me 30% for the concept and we’re all good.

The gut is a pretty common site these days. Thanks to women’s fashion, the term “muffin top” has been coined to describe the pudge that gets squeezed up and over the top of a woman’s jeans because she’s wearing them too tight and too low. Where have all the best friends gone? Who lets a friend walk out of a dressing room, let alone a store, wearing a pair of pants that makes a thin girl look pillowy? Since when did back fat become sexy? I’m seeing it all over the place and it ain't pretty.

And guys, just because you can’t see your belly peeking out from under your t-shirt doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t. It’s like upside-down, hairy butt crack. Tuck it in! I'd rather see a big belly straining against the fabric of a tucked-in shirt than that wobbly, hairy, scrotal peek.

Tucking your shirt in doesn’t work for you? How about tiny, little suspenders that attach to the front of your undies (yes, you must wear underwear) and the bottom of your shirt? Or let’s revive the unitard (the instrument of constant wedgification for those of us who were in school in the 80’s), but instead of struggling with snaps on your crotch, let’s make a big flap that snaps in front (yes, like a diaper). But let’s make them for men, too! A nice smooth line, no butt crack and no belly cleavage peeking out? Why, that’s brilliant! Thank you.

My point? Oh, something about being fat and frustrated that my pants fall down.