Learning From the Past

At this point, all of my pants have elastic waistbands. My wardrobe is that of an old man or a small child, with just a hint of the Unabomber.

Even with a minimum of buttons, snaps, and zippers, it's become increasingly challenging to pull my pants up and keep them there.

Lying on my bed the other day, catching my breath after one such struggle, an epiphany surfaced from some dark recess of memory: Maybe it would be easier in this position. I gave it a try, and indeed it was. Gravity was no longer working against me.

I did not invent this technique. It was widely practiced by girls during my early teen years, when skintight jeans were de rigueur. The names Jordache and Sasson probably don't mean much to other generations, but they meant everything at the time. Girls would yank them on and totter around triumphantly, laughing off the dark rumors about fainting, blood clots, and sterility. Who knew back then that these brave young heroines would reach far into the future one day to lend me a hand?

Thanks, girls!