TOO BIG FOR MY BRITCHES
I truly WAS too big for my britches in December. My mother died and then two days later my sister's husband died, both in the same state. I had to fly to another state to attend the funerals. On the airplane I wore my most comfortable jeans, the ones that weren't so tight I had to go into contortions to get them buttoned and zipped. They were dark navy, soft, and so comfortable. It was very cold that morning. I sat in the bulkhead - the seat closest to the front door. I heard one of the attendants say they needed to turn off the heat. Cold air from outside had been pouring inside the door as people loaded onto the plane - then they turned off the heat! I was cold, and so wore my coat inside the plane to Atlanta.
At the Atlanta airport it was so cold that the employees working behind the desks at the gates had on heavy coats, gloves, hats and some even had on earmuffs. I had no idea why there was no heat in the building. I was shaking from the cold. I went to one of the stores and bought a heavy, pink, hoodie with Atlanta printed on the front. I put that on over my clothes, and then my coat on top of that. My coat came down to below my hips. (This information will be useful later.) ha!
That evening we had my mother's viewing, then the family had a celebration of her life at a restaurant. Of course, I was not dressed in jeans, I was dressed appropriately.
The next day was Sunday and mother's funeral. After the funeral and burial was over and we all got back to the motel, most of the family headed for their respective homes, except for me and my family. We went to our rooms to change into comfortable clothes so we could go out to eat.
When the guys showed up at my room, I was dressed in my favorite, comfortable jeans and a sweater. Then one of them said, "Oh, Mom! You can't wear those jeans, you've got a big hole in the back."
I felt around in the general area of my backside, but couldn't feel any holes. "There is a long rip next to your hip pocket. You've got to change. You can't go anywhere with us looking like that!" My sons lamented.
I went into the bathroom, and tried to see my rear in the mirror, but I couldn't see anything ripped. I couldn't feel anything ripped. But, not wanting to embarrass my family, I took the only other pair of jeans I had - the ones I had to practically "melt and pour myself into" pair of black jeans into the bathroom to change. When I took off the ripped pair, I still couldn't see the rip at first. But then there it was, between the hip pocket and the middle seam . . . a long rip. The denim was a stretch denim. The cotton had ripped, but the stretchy stuff was like a webbing between the gap. (But you could see through the webbing!) My hand never felt that far over. And I would have never seen it if I hadn't looked for it!
My gronies! How long had I been walking around with my underwear shining through a rip in my jeans? Had I gone to Braums and other places around home dressed like that? Did it happen on the plane? When I got to Augusta and it was too hot to wear my coat, did I walk around with my . . . ? Oh, this was terrible!
The next day my son took me to my sister's home three hours away on his way back to Florida. Her husband's funeral was the following day. But eventually, I had to wear something besides funeral clothes, and the only choices I had were a pair of jeans that had had a rear end blowout and a pair that were extremely tight. I wore the blowouts around her house, and wore the pair that looked "sprayed on the body" when going outside her home. My sister commented that she could never wear jeans that tight and why would I wear such tight jeans in public? She didn't understand. They were all I had. I had tried to find jeans to fit me back home, but they had changed the style and nothing fit! Nothing! I couldn't get my derriere and my fat thighs into any of the new style jeans!
That girl took me to every fat ladies store in the area, trying to find jeans to fit me. She took me to Walmart, and K-mart. She took me to the mall. There were no jeans to fit this body. None. I did buy some lovely velour slacks and jackets. So that is what I wore most of the time I was there.
But I wanted JEANS! We ordered a pair of Lee jeans over the internet based on my measurements and their description. They made me look like the cable guy - you know the one - whose jeans ride way too low and he is mooning you while he is working on the TV. I had to send them back. Very, very discouraging!
But then we had a breakthrough!
We spent a day shopping with my sister's friends, which included a trip to an outlet store in a town about 40 miles away. We shopped at several stores there and found some pretty blouses for me, but no jeans. Then we went into the Lee's outlet store! I found my jeans! Yes, they fit properly at the waist, the hips, the thighs and the knees! I had to get a tall size, but was deliriously happy to find jeans that fit! They quickly became my favorites.
For the rest of this story - tune in tomorrow. Same station. Whatever time you desire.
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