Granny Pants. (original) (raw)

I swore that it would never happen to me, but it has. I have become the nightmare of my teenage years. I have grayed, and wizened. Bits of me that were once taut are now wiggly and jiggly and bits of me that used to be loose have frozen up. This I have borne with relative good grace. But today I became my own bete noir.

I bought a pair of Granny Pants. I might ought to have bought myself one of those "Queen of Denial" t-shirts too, because I was definitely doing some fast self-talk. After a long day of trying on pair after pair of jeans at store after store, I was ready to give up. I tried on jeans that snapped just below where my bosom currently resides. I tried on jeans that snapped way, way, way lower than that. I tried on jeans that were belled and boot cut and tapered. I tried on jeans that were "relaxed" and jeans I suspected of being on the verge of a break-down. I tried on jeans that were the deep, new indigo I rejected as dorky as a girl and jeans that looked like they had been worn by an auto mechanic for a few weeks. I think I tried on every pair of jeans in the greater metropolitan area.

And then I found them. The only reason I even tried them on was because they were on sale. I�m a sucker for something on sale. But I loved them! They were almost as comfortable as scrub pants. I preened in front of the mirror. �These look like something Katherine Hepburn would wear,� I thought. �So neat looking, so flattering, and so comfortable. Are they a little short though? Nah! I see people wearing their britches all different lengths. They�re fine. And sooooo comfortable!�

Why were they so comfortable? I am going to tell you something now that I never, ever thought I would say in a million, billion years. They have a half elastic waist. And long, loose legs. And square sailor style pockets. And I love them. And they are not Kathryn Hepburn pants. They are not sailor pants. They are Granny Pants, pure and simple.

I have worn all kinds of jeans in my life. I had elephant bell hip-huggers that were more patch than pant and were they ever cool! I have cut the seam out of jeans and put in a big triangle of brightly colored material. I wanted to do this myself and wear them to the Sadie Hawkins dance in seventh grade. I couldn�t sew, and my mom wasn�t going to be home in time, so I tried some good old Elmer�s glue. That didn�t work so well, so I stapled them and called it good. I went over to my friend Jane Reed�s house. "Wow, Liz! Look at your jeans!" What I heard was, "your jeans are so cool."

"Mom," Jane said, "look at Liz�s jeans."

"I bet you did those all by yourself, didn�t you?"

"Yes ma�am, I did," I said not too modestly.

"Would you like me to just give them a quick going over so your staples don�t show so much?" Since one of the staples was, at that very moment, jabbing itself painfully into my calf, I agreed that this would be nice.

In high school I wore my jeans way, way, way too long so that the cuff would get appropriately frayed and dirty. In the �80's I wore super tight jeans in every color of the rainbow. The tighter and brighter the better to go with my enormous shoulder pads and gigantic hair.

Then I had a decade or so that I just could not find any jeans that both fit and looked right. Until yesterday. I wore those jeans today. I asked my daughter if she thought they were too short. "Don�t worry, Mom. Nobody will notice." Uh-oh. I started to fret and tried to see my reflection in a glass door. And then her words sunk in and I had an epiphany. "Nobody will notice." Nobody. Will notice.

I am free! Liberated! Released from the dictates of fashion through sheer perserverance in surviving this long. I can wear any durned thing I want to wear and nobody will notice! Good-bye panty hose, hello knee socks! Fair-thee-well heels and howdy-doo driving mocs! Hasta la vista cuffs and collars and waistbands and hello to the wonderful world of jersey knits! Katherine Hepburn my hind leg! Hellooooo Granny Pants!