Big boobs, hefty hips, thick thighs, just the very obstacles to hinder a potentially enjoyable shopping spree. And when you’re in the Philippines, faced with those f*cking FS (free size) tags, you just wanna lash out at everything and everyone in your path. Shopping, in this context, is not the stress-busting activity that a stereotypical female engages in, but a torturous process one has to go through as a punishment for one’s unusual body proportions. Maybe that’s why I don’t like shopping. It just isn’t fun.
Then last Saturday, the unthinkable happened. My last pair of jeans decided to die on me. Oh no, what a pain! Now I’d have to drag myself to a store and try on some pants. And in a country whose shoppers all seem to be anorexic, good luck, Miss Thunder Thighs! That’s really something to cry about.
Come Monday, I walk into a store that I know will at least have my size. Since the mall just opened, I’m the only customer there and I get a saleslady all to myself. She works hard. I work her hard. She gets me all the trousers that fit my criteria and some other items she thinks I’ll like. All of these were from the women’s section. I try them all on and settle for one pair that I’m not completely happy with, but it’s basically the best of the bunch.
Then I ask her for man pants. She goes to the men’s section to grant me my wish. She comes back with the perfect pair that fits perfectly. I ask for 2 more of the same cut in different colors.
Thank you, my pants angel from heaven. I didn’t have to buy the woman’s jeans after all. I guess I’ve been doing it wrong all my life. Let’s hope these 3 trousers last for at least 5 years.