Have you ever wondered how it would be the day you retire? How it would feel? Most of us joke, even yearn for it, but the truth is, until it’s actually here, I don’t believe we have a clue.
How have you prepared? You know it’s coming. I don’t think it registers, truly settles in and gets comfy–it isn’t real–until the day arrives.
It slapped me upside the head the other day, and it was rude. Take a look at these:
My jeans arrived, genuine jeans. Cute, right?
More like dangerous. It is completely and totally inadvisable to order something like this on-line, with expectations they fit. Having said that, I have ordered shoes, clogs to be accurate, and have scored. I order under-britches, jackets, shirts, under-holders and more; no problem. When you know brands and sizing charts–when you know
your bulges yourself–this can be done. But, jeans?!!?
I must have had a fever. This is totally off the top. See, here’s the deal: they are stretch denim. These babies s-t-r-e-t-c-h ! !
Alright, let’s not panic. Let’s talk this through. Stretchy isn’t so bad. I owned a pair of stretch jeans when I was skinny; they were awesome, fit like a glove. I kept them. We all keep that one pair that made us look hot. I may have lost my marbles, but
I can still dream I know that skinny day is just around the corner.
To be honest, I knew about the stretch when I ordered, but there is something I didn’t realize. Are you sitting down? These jeans are Pull Ups. Those snaps you see up there next to all that lovely decorative stitching? Fake. Those buttonholes? Fake. See the fabric fold where the zipper should go? Completely and totally fake.
Pull Up jeans? I was horrified, and started to feel really old and really young at the same time. What the hell was happening?
My brain went on overdrive. I might have to lie down to squeeze into them; this could take hours, days; I might a pull muscle. What if they won’t come off? If my children see me rolling around on the floor there might be a 911 call. I refused to try them on, decided to make them wait, did not want to give them the satisfaction. They could just sit there. Two can play this little game.
I decided to clean the bathroom. The jeans were sitting on the counter; I ignored them. I made my cleaning mix–1 part vinegar and 1 part water–and began wiping down the toilet. I was still
irritated upset pissed off about the jeans when it happened again; life slapped me upside the head. Check this out:
The plastic covers come off! You know, the ones where the lid is attached to the bowl. Who knew?!!? I had no idea! I felt like June Cleaver discovering a way to clean the house more efficiently.
I’m not a complete moron. I knew the ones covering the bolts at the base of the toilet at floor level come off. Of course they come off. But these? The old toilet did not have covers, just the plastic attachment. I’ll be darned.
I began to feel better.
I decided to be open to change, new possibilities. Life could be good. Then I remembered the jeans. Damn them. But, OK, I was willing to give them a try. I exhaled and tried them on.
Could it be true? I’m not sure how much my heart can handle.
I. LOVE. THEM. They are soft, they fit like a (larger) glove, and it took minimal rolling to get them on. The decorative stitching is pretty awesome, the pockets are cool. They are slim-legged and can be worn with heels, boots, or sneakers if I choose. Life. Is. Good.
Appears that retirement can be pretty awesome, if we are open to the possibilities.
Two days and counting. Bring. It. I am prepared.