Middle aged spread creeps up on you. I thought I was fine wearing my 34 inch trousers. Then it was time to buy a new pair and I realised the old ones had stretched quite a bit.
Wrapping the tape measure round my waist is dispiriting. It's one of those metal measures you use for measuring your living room or your dick. "12 inches but I don't use it as a rule!"
38 inches, though! I don't look it. To look at me you might say 34 or 35. But 38?
So I shop for some 38" trousers. Short leg. Fucking hell, I'm like Danny DeVito!
But 38's too loose. I try on a pair of 36s. I have to breath in and they're too tight around my bulging, muscular thighs and my perfectly proportioned arse. So I buy the 38s with a belt.
Trouble is, the holes in the belt are in the wrong places. Either too tight or too loose. So I make a hole with a screwdriver and a pair of scissors.
Not bad. But with my light blue shirts, if I walk any distance my trousers start to fall down. It's fucking embarrassing to keep pulling them up when I'm walking. You see, the light blue shirts are made of thinner material than the others. There's not enough bulk around my middle. Either I need to feed myself more or I need to get some braces. I can't wear braces! This is not fucking Gordon Gecko or Mork and Mindy, this is 21st century business!
Bosch Season 3 – review
21 hours ago