Have you seen my pants lately?
My 34-inch-by-30-inch pants. That’s my size. Yes, I have a 34-inch waist and two 30-inch legs. If you ever wondered how I measure up, now you know.
I am not proud of this. I didn’t aspire to it (except when I was a 36). But I’m not unhappy with it, either, although I’d rather be a 33.
Now, I ask you again. Have you seen my pants? No, not the ones I am wearing, although I’m beginning to think that they were the last 34-30s made in America. I’m looking for another pair of 34-30s. Where have all the 34-30s gone?
Every Saturday morning, I head out the door to look for pants. I’m either waddling around in a pair of 36-30s or scrunched into 32-28s.
First, I go to Kohl’s to look for pants. Man, do they have pants. And they have some really great sizes: 38-33, 42-28, 30-36, 40-34, 36-28. And that’s just the beginning. The entire rack of clothes is a testimony to the myriad and wonderful ways that God works. Imagine creating humans in so many shapes. I’m pretty sure that all squirrels would wear pretty much the same size pants.
But God, in his omnipotence, should have seen that creating men with 34-inch waists and 30-inch legs was unnecessarily cruel. God should have known that 34-30 men would never find pants. Men like this are destined to be naked. There’s no question that Adam was a 34-30.
I look through the other sizes, hoping that some 34-30 who forgot his credit card may have hidden away his size so he could return the next day and reclaim his treasure. Maybe there’s a 34-30 in between the 44-30s and the 32-28s. That’s where I once hid a pair of 34-30s. No luck. Let me tell you something: You can hide some of your income from the IRS in a bank in Switzerland, but you can’t hide a pair of 34-30 pants. Someone will find them.
So, what is the explanation for my problem? Humpty Dumpty was a 46-24, and the guy on stilts at the Indiana State Fair is probably 32-64. They didn’t have a problem finding pants.
The truth is that 34-30 is so common, stores can’t keep the size in stock. I know that when I see a pair of 40-29s, they are going to be there for a while. Men who are 36-32 are probably trying to squeeze into my 34-30s. There ought to be a law. I have my rights. And that guy now has his tights.
No one cares about 34-30s. We are normal around the middle, average from crotch to cuff. There is nothing distinctive about us.
Except we don’t have any pants.