Just Another Day at the Office

20 01 2012

Today was the kind of day where the universe reels you back in and makes you humble.  It started out decently enough.  I was wearing my tight pants except they were no longer tight.  I had room in them.  So much room that I needed to force my gut out to keep them up.  I can breathe freely now, just have to be careful of the inhales or these pants are dropping.  This predicament made me happy.  It’s a nice worry for a change.  I had a little strut going…my new power walk.  Life is good.  I feel good.  I can park at the end of the lot and I don’t mind a brisk walk to the office.  I actually prefer it now.  I used to be a parking space shark, weaving in and around the lot looking for that spot to open up near the door.  Now it feels good to get out and walk.  And although I’m certainly no light weight yet, I definitely feel lighter.  And this only after losing 35+ pounds.  How good will I feel after another 35 pounds are gone?  And 35 more after that?   No more elevator rides to the second floor either.  This guy takes the stairs now.  And my breathing isn’t all crazy when I reach the top.  I’m in full control.  The world is mine.

Got into the office ready to conquer the stacks of paper on my desk.  But within minutes of sitting….RIPPPPP…instant inseam ventilation of the pants.  Not good.  How do pants that are so loose completely shred like this??  I mean these pants just blew completely apart.   I am talking Grade A wardrobe malfunction to the 10th power here.   The shit eating grin that I’ve sported all morning quickly fades as I begin to survey the utter destruction that were my old/new favorite pants.  Thoughts in my mind race and I ask myself why I didn’t reach for the boxers in the underwear drawer this morning and instead picked the briefs that should have been tossed away years ago because they are insanely too small.  I shuffle out the door past the secretary in a way that tries to save some small shred of dignity while at the same time making the proclamation that I have just somehow destroyed my pants.  I mean despite trying to hide it, its rather obvious.  There is a hole in the crotch of my pants that you could drive a truck through.  Sadly, I have a history of this.  I am a great destroyer of pants.

So off to the “Big and Tall” I go.  I call it the “Fat and Fat” because I have never once seen an exclusively tall man shopping there.  I’ve seen some men who are tall shop there but they were always rotund as well.  So in I go and buy a pair of $65 dress slacks which is absolute highway robbery.  They know they have us big guys right where they want us.  I swear the clerk has spotted me getting out of my car with a hole the size of Texas in the front of my pants and has quickly increased the price of pants by 50% prior to me entering the shop.  $65!!!  And it’s not like I can just drive over to Macy’s and grab a pair my size off the shelf.  So they’ve got me.  I grab a size down from my normal size and head to the dressing room.  And to my surprise – not only do they fit but they have ample room.  The smile is returning. Suddenly, these are pretty nice slacks.  $65 isn’t so bad for nice slacks like these.  I’m wearing these fine slacks out of here.  I’m smiling and the clerk is smiling right back.  I mean he is overjoyed for me and my new pants.  I buy them and head out the door.  I’m a size down and it feels great.

So off to the local Italian shop I go.  Once a week, I buy a grilled veggie sandwich with balsamic vinegar on the best Italian bread known to man (otherwise I’ve cut bread completely out of my diet).  I park far away across the lot.  I’m going to walk it.  The strut is coming back, I’m feeling good.  Like a politician, I’m smiling at everyone I see.   And I’m getting huge smiles back.  Angelo, one of the shop owners, greets me as I enter the store.  “Little John!” he says.  This is what he always calls me.  If I didn’t love him, I’d want to thrash him but the guy has the best italian food around and he’s always good to my grandparents when they shop there.  Soon I have my delicious sandwich in hand and I proceed to the register.  Angelo asks how things are going.  “New pants” I say proudly.  I’m waiting for him to agree that these pants are truly awesome and damn I look thinner this week.  Angelo looks me up and down and mumbles something in Italian.  I ask him what it means.  I know the italian swear words, that is about it.  He smiles widely as everyone else who I have recently come in contact with has.  He replies “your cage is open but your bird is dead.”  I contemplate this for a minute.  What the hell is this guy talking about?  Then he brings his hand up towards his face with his thumb and pointer pressed together and shakes it the way italians do when they talk with passion and says “your fly is down”.  My pride quickly falls lower than my zipper and I’m reduced to a shell of the man I was just a few hours earlier.  Once in my car, I eat both my sandwich and my despair and return to the office a beaten man.

Better luck tomorrow…



4 responses

20 01 2012
for a better me now

Nice one. Its well written 😉 had a laugh. Not sure if I like your italian guy though. Anyway, best of luck tomorrow!

20 01 2012

Thank you! Angelo can be an acquired taste. He has a good heart though. He’s alright in my book. 😉

20 01 2012

I have Cher playing you in the movie!
That’s my kind of day, Johnny!

20 01 2012

Cher? Maybe towards the end 😉

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