The Recession Strikes Pants.

The tax man gave me money today, and I decided that for the first time in two years I was going to buy myself some new pants. Dress pants. Pants that an observer would deem appropriate for the classroom instead of the denim trousers I’ve been wearing three times a week for the past year. They don’t really fit well, but they only need washing once a week and go with everything. They’ve been good for my personal economy. I consider them my recession pants.

The recession has made times tough all around. I read a news article about companies not wanting to raise the prices on food so instead they charge the same price for smaller packages. This has happened in cereal, bread, and ice cream. Apparently, as I learned today, it also applies to pants.

There used to be two stores where I could walk in and buy pants. They weren’t spectacular pants, and always more than I wanted to. But I could try them on, decide if they made my butt look flat and walk out the door with nice new pants. They were never really as long as I’d like, but they worked. Not today.

Today the pants had felt the effects of the recession.

I realize that I’m unusually tall, and most of that height is caused by terribly long legs. In my ideal world, a long length would be thirty-six inches. I’ll settle for a thirty-four, can’t wear heels with them but I don’t do that anymore anyway so that’s fine. But thirty-two inches as a tall?

“This company considers ‘tall’ to be 5’7-5’9’. You’re quite a bit taller than that. How tall are you anyway?” I hate that question. Hate it more from tiny little sprites posing as sales people. I considered stepping on her.

“Almost six feet. In whose world is 5’7 tall? My sister is 5’10 and I wouldn’t call her tall. What happens to women once they grow past 5’9? Are we supposed to find a revolutionary doctor willing to amputate a portion of our legs, in my case just below the knee, so we can buy pants? Or am I supposed to wear Capri pants all year around, since I could buy a pair of your “regular” pants and they’d be a perfect fit?

Two years ago these pants were long enough. I have a pair at home, almost worn through that prove it. Now you’re just like the grocery store; selling less product for the same inflated price. I want all the ice cream I’m paying for and I want all the pants I’m paying for too. Is that so hard?”

Okay, no. I didn’t say it. But I wanted to.

It’s not the tiny persons fault the pants are short. She might have even tried to make me feel better by saying what all short people say when I complain about buying pants:

“Well, pants are always too long for me.”

It doesn’t help. Extra pant can be cut off and hemmed. No one adds pant.

Instead I forced a smile.

"Nevermind. I’m seriously considering the logistics of giving up pants altogether.”