every inch counts (lyn)

This summer I bought a pair of black pants when I was on the Cape.  The tag read size 8, but I think it was either mis-marked, or a ploy by the manufacturer to make a size 10 or 12 person think they were a size 8.  In any case, I liked the way these pants fit.

In already thinking about what to pack for Thanksgiving, a friend suggests I should dress all in black, as that is always the most slimming.  I’m not sure if I want to do that, but I definitely want to be in skinny black pants.

So today I take my new black pants out of the closet.  The tags are still on them. I try them on, and to my absolute delight, the waist is too big.   I could now wear them if I were five months pregnant.  I’m not, so I take them to the neighborhood tailor.

I’m sure he cannot see how proud I am.  I try and act as though this were an everyday occurrence.  I put the pants on, and show him the gap between my stomach and the pants.  He’s all business.  He pinches the waistband of the pants and pins them and says, “Okay?”  I control my excitement and casually ask, "How much?"  Chinese being his first language, he doesn’t speak English very well, but does understand how much.  “Fifteen dollah,” he says.  “No, no,” I respond, and do a poor pantomime of my pants going from being too big to smaller.  He understands, and says, “One inch and half.” 

Now that may not seem like a lot, but under the right circumstances, even one and a half inches can make a world of difference!