If I’m smart (oh, what an “if” that is!), this will be the last time I wear these scrub pants! A wardrobe malfunction looms on the horizon like building billows of threatening, black storm clouds. Every move is a Russian roulette of the clothing variety. Will the threads break? Will the seams hold? Is the fabric itself fallible? Will I burst clean out of my britches?
I’ve over indulged a tad during these winter months, I admit it! But I’m far from worried. These pants were purchased in a different era, a time when my ribcage was visible from across the room and even exceptionally thin friends found a way to express concern about my weight. Sick, pale, and seizure-y, I was a walking skeleton. This means I’m making progress on my quest for a fuller physique! Success! Time to scale down portions a pinch? Perhaps. But on the flip side, no seizures as of late! In this case, does a fuller figure represents a full tank of nutrients for the body’s smoother operation? If so, I’m in. Seizure-free, that’s the goal! I don’t mind putting on a few healthy pounds; I just don’t want to publicly split the seat of my scrubs in the process!
Oh, wait! Here’s an idea! Perhaps the PANTS are to blame! They are, admittedly, approaching elderly status…at least 312 workday wears, I’d estimate, over the last six years. Wow. Maybe it’s time to let this poor pair retire.
On the agenda this week: Locate a larger pair of scrubs! (1/22/15)
© Angela M. Adams