Lord of the pants

Denim is one of the most forgiving fabrics on the planet. What other cloth will regularly put up with fannies that test the limits of double stitching? So last December when I bent over and got a sudden draft on my backside, I knew that it was time for a diet. Yes, the fabric that can support 642 pounds of cellulite per square inch ripped.

Back in the day when I used to dance around my living room just for the fun of it, my pants fit perfectly. Never mind that pre-menopause I had a metabolism that required me to eat twice my body weight daily to gain a pound. Now when I dance vigorously around the house, those excess pounds go flying every which direction. The neighbors close their blinds and the dog hides and whimpers.

I used to belly dance in college and still have the costume. I tried it on and decided that if the size of the belly determines the skill of the dancer, I’ve still got it. Yesterday I tried a kneeling back bend and, to my surprise, I was actually able to get down and back up without fracturing my hip. But when I stood up, I was reeling around the room as if I had just huffed a whole can of spray paint (gold). Apparently, my blood doesn’t return to the vertical position as fast as my head does.

Just for the hell of it, I’ve tried River Dancing in the privacy of my own garage. As far as I can tell, it’s just a matter of moving your feet as fast as you can and not slouching. I’m sure that if I were in a basement full of spiders, I would be a natural. I have a secret fantasy that one day I will tune into the Jerry Springer Show, and suddenly the whole audience will jump up and start River Dancing to show their appreciation of the blood-letting de jour. It would be an obvious ploy to boost ratings among the two people who actually enjoy Lord of the Dance.

I’m kind of disappointed that I won’t be able to go to the annual Grits Festival this weekend. Last year they had the local chapter of the Women’s Auxiliary doing precision line dancing in the middle of the street. There wasn’t one of them under 60. I wouldn’t mind learning a couple of their moves to add to my living room repertoire.

I figure that by summer I will have danced my way to be able to zip up my jeans and have the excess girth squished out the top instead of bursting through the bottom. If nothing else, since the neighbors have their curtains closed anyway, I might just forgo the jeans altogether. I’m already used to the draft.

15 thoughts on “Lord of the pants

  1. OMG, too funny!

    I’m in the same boat…except, my draft is usually between my legs…I always wear out that spot first…figures that I can get my fat ass into the jeans and the double stitching holds, but the fabric doesn’t between my legs…they should reinforce that area…!

    • Obviously a defect in material. Where is the pride in craftmanship? At least that’s what I would go with.

  2. This is one of your funniest blogs. How I relate. Interesting how menopause means ‘I’m starving and can’t get enough food.’ I try to consume more now than when I was pregnant. And the weight stays ’cause it loves me so much.
    Loved this blog, Karla.

  3. That’s hilareous! I’ve grown out of a few jeans since I started my chocolate business up again. And every weekend I tell myself that starting Monday, it’s self-control time. And here I am, eating chocolate pretzels while I type this!

  4. I think I may have to try that River Dancing stuff. I’m wanted to get rid of my noisy neighbors downstairs. One overweight River Dancing fool + My living room floor directly above their living room floor = Neighbors fleeing without even packing their stuff. I like that equation. Must.Try.It.Soon.
    Funny stuff Karla!

  5. That was great! I’m still chuckling, ’cause I so can identify! Oh….I think I forgot to thank you for the bookmark!

  6. Very funny!

    You do realize that the Lord of the Dance-Riverdance phenomenon found its origins in the eighth circle of Hell, right?

  7. River Dancing…


    My friend who recently passed away was a wonderful poet. She was also an inhabitant of the virtual world, Second Life, as I also am.

    Her avatar of choice was a little “humanoid”-looking Kitty–what folks in Second Life call a Tiny. There are also little badgers, and hedgehogs, and little reindeer…


    I had planned and officiated at my friends Memorial Service in Second Life yesterday.

    Poems were read, about my friend Jammers and by her. Then we had a time for folks to say whatever they wanted to share about her life.

    While this was happening I got a private message from a Tiny, saying that the highest honor they pay to those who pass on is to do a River Dance.

    We waited till everyone had had their say then the little folk stood up and began a River Dance, music and all, shouting “Jammers”, “Jammers”, Jammers”…

    I’d held it together pretty well through the whole Service but, when the dance was happening, streams of joyful/painful tears were sluicing down my cheeks…

    As they are now…………………………………………………………………..

    • I don’t really understand second life, but I do understand loss. I’m so sorry for the loss of your friend.

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