This concept first started to blossom while I was working at a group home for "troubled youth" (politically correct term for thug) in Chattanooga. One of the kids ended up there because he held up a fish market. The visual on that always made me chuckle. "Give me all your cash and two of those lovely tuna, and tell me, are they best served with white or red wine?"
A couple of times a year I would have to take these young men shopping and they always wanted to buy pants that were several sizes too big for them; all of the Klumps could have fit into some of those pants. Try as I might I could never convince them that they should buy size appropriate pants, and since I was always of the mindset that adults should let kids be kids (until I had two of my own) I never pushed it very hard.
I would take these kids to the YMCA to play basketball and they would have to hold up their pants to run and dribble. Some of them had legitimate ball handling skills, even with that self-imposed handicap. I tried to introduce them to the belt concept, explaining to them that it would take their game to a whole new level, but to them having their pants fall down while playing was just one of the costs of being cool. Two handed basketball was just a little too progressive for them I suppose.
I used to work with this guy that was on the other end of the pants spectrum; me and a co-worker referred to him affectionately as pappaw. We called him this not because he was old enough to be our pappaw, but instead because he wore his pants in such a way that the waist of said pants fell just below his chin; if his zipper was open you could see his Adam's Apple, and I don't mean that euphemistically. It was as if that waistband was some kind of shield that would protect him from us young whipper snappers. Pappaw looked kind of like a turtle in those pants.
So I've come to the conclusion over the years that, not unlike the rings of a tree, you can tell how old someone is by how they wear their pants. The lower their waistline sits, the younger the person. Think about it for a minute, have you ever seen a teenager not named Urkel wearing their pants up to their nipples? Have you ever seen an older person with their crack showing? Okay, have you ever seen an older person with their crack showing who wasn't working on your sink?
You never really have to ask a man how old he is. Instead, start by asking yourself a series of questions. First, can you see his shoes from the back? If the answer is yes, then he's between the ages of 23 and 90. Can you see his socks? That narrows his age range down to between 40 to 90. Can you see his shoes, socks and most of his leg? If so then he's clearly between the ages of 50 and 90. After 50 the immutable laws of physics won't not allow you to wear your pants any higher.
People over the age of 90 tend to abandon pants altogether in favor of the jogging suit, sweat pant or pajama bottom; when you get that old you just don't care, it's all about comfort. Women are pretty much the same at that age. I saw a woman the other day who had to be all of 115 wearing cowboy boots and a pair of sweat pants with "juicy" written across the rear.
I turn 45 this year, so by my count I have 5 more years before I have to figure out a way to get my belt line up around my nipples. I don't know how to accomplish that yet, but I'm resigned to the fact that it's something I must do; it's as inevitable as the tide. Don't hate the player, hate the game.
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