Now that my eldest and middle daughters are off at college dashing my prospects for retirement, and my youngest daughter has started navigating the pubescent challenges of high school, I can turn to more important matters – namely, pants.
Yes, we’ve reached the time of year when, to the relief of my friends and family, I’m back to wearing trousers on a semi-regular basis. And since I hadn’t updated my professional wardrobe since the second Bush administration, I recently decided to throw caution (and several pair of worn-out pleated slacks with expandable waistband) to the wind and start over.
Unfortunately for a dude who is steadily losing the dad-bod battle, though, seemingly every men’s fashion designer now feels compelled to trigger me by advertising their garments as “slim fitting.” I haven’t squeezed my girth into anything described as “slim” since I was five years old with a Kool-Aid mustache and wearing Toughskins jeans from Sears.
