The other day I was shopping for some new clothes, which is rare.
I’m basically the same size I was as a high school freshman, which in some ways is good because my midsection remains in agreeable proportion to my shoulders, and also because I can still wear my junior high standard attire when I go to work.
But, things do have a way of getting spilt on and threadbared, and it seems that when you go shop to find the first thing that fits and then leave, it often doesn’t fit very well later, and you subsequently don’t much enjoy wearing it, and put it off putting it on until you have a closet hanging only with all the itchy, baggy pants you hate. But they’re all that’s left and the stuff on the floor is too dirty to get by with.
Anyway, I was at the mall the other day and walked past some 10 Commandments tablets, which was strange and shows how little I shop for things I can’t eat.
When were they put in; does anyone know?
I think it must not have been very long. I saw graven images all throughout the all the various stores, so I guess they must still be getting around to covering up the pictures of people and stuff and taking down the mannequins, toys and whatnot. It was a Sunday, too, so I was fairly surprised to see all the people made to work on the Sabbath, but then again, the mall probably goes off of the Hebrew beliefs and observes Saturday as the Lord’s Day. Which is admirable.
Still, and nothing against the Jews, I get sort of tired from seeing the 10 Commandments places plopped down in front of things, especially courthouses. You’re really only not allowed to do 20 percent of what’s on the list (murder and theft), and false witness may be frowned upon, but rarely punishable.
We’re a Christian nation, supposedly, but no one erects the Sermon on the Plain anywhere. I’d speculate, but my mulling is already taking this too far off-track, and will have to be reserved for some other column.
As I was saying, I haven’t shopped for clothes in a while, so long that I was mostly frustrated to find I couldn’t find the right size. Then every time I did, it had this elastic waistband which sort of defeats the whole point, doesn’t it? I mean, aren’t you looking for something well-made that fits you, not something that will allow you to comfortably call yourself a size 32 waist, even when you’re actually a 36 or 40?
I don’t want a fake idea. I want some sort of rigor and accountability. I want it to be hard to still fit into if I put on weight, so that I either have to abandon my view of myself, or change the parts of my lifestyle that got me there.
I am, however, mostly alone in this.
I asked one of the sales associates about this and why there were so few normal-waisted pants. She said people love the elastic ones; it’s all anyone asks for. They can’t sell enough of them.
I hmm’d and thanked her, then eventually caved and bought one, as well as another that I actually wanted.
I’m sure they’re quite comfortable, but I still haven’t worn the elastic ones. And I hope not to, even if they’re the last thing in the closet and what’s on the floor is too dirty to get by with.