I wear the same stuff every day.
I have a total of six pairs of trousers, but only four that fits. Out of those four, two of them are joggers, and the other two are chinos.
My chinos are matched with one of four polos I own when I go to work. The joggers, paired with black v-neck tees, come out on non-work outings.
I am a minimalist, voluntarily. I take pleasure in the simplicity of owning very few things. Easy on my wallet and makes moving that much easier. The decision on the number of trousers I own, however, is an involuntary minimalism practice.
Weighing at 245 lbs at a height of 5’ 8”, finding the right fit is tough. There are several aspects of pants that make it inconvenient for big and short guys like me:
40 x 28 Pants Are Like Shiny Pokemon
Companies don’t like to make pants my size (40 waist size x 28 inseam length). Out of the four categories: big, small, tall, and short, clothing come in all possible combinations except for one — big and short.
Big guys must be tall, right?
For an inseam length of 28, anything above 36 waist size becomes quite uncommon.
In layman terms, the 40 x 28 pants are not as rare as capturing Mewtwos, but an Associate’s degree is highly recommended to successfully find one.
A simple google search says that the chance of getting a Shiny Pokemon is 1 in 4096, a 0.02% finding rate, which I would say is pretty accurate for finding pants that fit me nicely.
Tapered No Longer Exist for Fat Folks
I can’t help but think that in the eyes of clothing designers, fat people’s lower extremities must look like elephants’. Next time you go to Target or Costco, take a gander at the pants in bigger sizes — they are tubular.
Yes, all pants are tubular, but big pants are even more so.
From my years of being alive, I have made an astute observation — ankles increase in size proportionally to thighs, not linearly.
For instance, people who have gained weight can still wear watches, because, surprise, their wrists don’t get as big as their arms. How did that logic miss the whole pants game?
Even for “slim fit” cuts, the pants are never tapered enough to not make me look like an arm-flailing inflatable tubeman.
Pants Are Cannibals
I love friction.
It allows me to walk, jump, climb, and exist in general really, but they’re like helicopter parents.
You love them because they’re your parents and most likely, they’re the reason you exist. But they are also everywhere, invading your space every chance they get.
Friction does that with my thigh gap, or rather, my lack of thigh gap.
My pants eat away at each other in the crotch area all the time. Regardless of brand or price, I have to buy a new pair of pants every few months, because even though I’m sure crotch-less pants have a time and place for some people, it’s definitely not a daily driver for me.
Of course, there are actions I can take in my own hands to save myself from this peril.
I could lose weight. With a much smaller waist size, I will be able to buy pants with the right inseam length.
I could become okay with crotch-less pants. A boost of confidence wouldn’t hurt.
I could not wear pants at all.
I could start rocking skirts; I’ve heard they provide great air circulation. They may not be aerodynamic, but it’s not like I run anyway. If I did, my initial problem of not fitting in pants could’ve been avoided altogether in the first place.
I could also ignore all possible solutions and complain about it on an online publishing platform. Maybe that’s what I’ll do.
All in all, 2/10. Pants suck.