Thursday, May 12, 2011
This has happened to us all: you pick up something in the store in your size and, in a rush or just out of laziness, you don't try it on because it must fit you because you picked out your size. Only you have failed to take into consideration the fact that maybe you have been working out, maybe there is some post-holiday bloat, maybe you like Key Lime Pie a little too much. Whatever. Your size is not your size anymore and that item that you just ripped the tags off of and no longer have the receipt for is now unwearable and a reminder that you can be such a lazy halfwit sometimes. Dang.
My husband has this problem, and the last few things he has bought himself have been WAY. TOO. SMALL.
Cool T-shirt bought at Brick Lane: SKINTIGHT.
New running shoes bought in Malaysia: TOECRAMPING.
Brand new golf shorts bought last week: WAISTCINCHING.
He lives in a size fantasy world. You know what I mean. I am afraid he will pull an incredible hulk or a fat-guy-in-a-little-coat. Or just split his pants. I split my pants once doing some booty dancing, but it was totally not the same thing. Their structural integrity had been compromised.
So what does this mean for me? Me me me. It means I have to undertake a task I am not excited about: letting his shorts out. Grr. Mindless sewing tasks.
I still haven't resized the pattern for the Orange Linen Wrap Dress. I have no idea what I have been doing with my time.
My Husband Needs to Acquaint Himself With The Dressingroom