By Dawn Watson
My pants are shrinking.
Just the other day I went through my closet, searching for just the right pair of slacks. I tried on pair after pair, even a few skirts, and they had all magically shrunk a size or two!
Thinking it was the closet’s fault I moved the pile to a chair. When I resumed the awful task of trying to stuff my size-18 (and I’m being kind, here) hinder into them it was like trying to stuff a pound of sausage into a half-pound casing. So I threw them onto the bed and walked away.
After a snack of leftover fried chicken, I resumed my quest to find the perfect outfit. After all, my lady friends were coming over for lunch the following day and I wanted to be fancy. And I sure couldn’t be fancy wearing an old pair of scrubs, even if I dressed them up with pearls.
Nothing fit. Blouses popped their buttons, polo shirts strained where they shouldn’t, stretch pants didn’t. It was enough to make me ravenous. So I threw the pile onto the floor of the Magical Clothes-Shrinking Closet and went downstairs to complain to Hubby. “Maybe you’re getting, um..bigger?” he offered hesitantly. My steely-eyed glare caused him to bury his nose back into the sports page, where it belonged.
I know he’s right. I eat too many hoagies from Hoagie Heaven, too much fried chicken from Troxies, and drink way too many of Marie’s fancy choco-caramo-fatto lattes at King Street Espresso. Not to mention that I’m known as Mrs. Bud Lite at Gloucester City Liquors. The only reason I haven’t exploded is because I walk everywhere to purchase the aforementioned specialty items.
I guess our town just has too much goodness to offer and I have a hard time saying no, so I’m going to have to wear the scrubs, after all. I guess my lady friends will understand. Besides, both of them live in town and I have a feeling that their pants are shrinking and their closets are magical, too, so we’ll all commiserate while we eat. Afterwards, we’ll take a little walk and hope that the exercise will put it all into perspective, at least until our next luncheon. We’re already planning the menu.