Jeans

The hole in Luke’s jeans had got so big that there was more hole than jeans, it was getting so bad that wearing them in public might result in him being arrested for indecent exposure. There was noting for it, he was going to have to buy a new pair. But buying a new pair of jeans was easier said than done for a 45-year-old man of growing ‘stature’.

Between the ages of 20 and 38 Luke had easily fitted into size 32 jeans; buying jeans was easy back then, buy the same one as last time unless the fashion changed. 

But at 38 Luke found he no longer had a 32-inch waist, and that he needed size 34. That shock had sent Luke to the gym, signing up for a membership card, using it once or twice before it played the guilt card; reminding him of his expanding girth every time he opened his wallet to pay for a bacon sandwich or a round of beers.  

By 40 Luke had grown out of his 34s moving into a 36, how did that happen? It had taken him nearly twenty years to go up one size and little more than 2 to go up another. But there was no rushing to the gym this time just a resigned shrug and acceptance of his new status.

As Luke went from one shop to another he realised just how uncomfortable jeans had become. The space between the top of the leg and the waist seemed to have got smaller meaning he had to crush his vitals into the cramped space. When did all jeans become low rise by default he wondrered. He tried Next, Springfield, Zara, all the usual suspects with no luck. Eventually he arrived at Marks and Spencer. He couldn’t could he? He could buy work shirts and socks and boxers in the home of middle age but surely buying jeans would signal the end of his youth. He tried them on, size 34, perfect fit. The freedom the higher rise fit gave him was pure bliss; it was comfort incarnate. But he couldn’t could he? Surely buying these middle class, middle aged jeans in this middle class, middle aged shop was a signed confession that he was over the hill and beginning to slip slide down the other side.

Luke took the first swig of his beer and adjusted himself as subtly as he could. These Springfield jeans were the most uncomfortable things he’d ever worn. He thought of the pair he’d left behind and promised himself that next time he’d not be so vain while knowing deep down his next pair would be as uncomfortable as these.