In the late summer of 2003, I decided that I wanted to go buy some jeans for the winter. I hadn’t owned a pair of jeans since my freshman year in high school, because the dress code in the following school year allowed khakis only, and I had decided to just buy Dockers khakis for a while, because they were nice looking and comfortable.
On the first trip, Mamaw Ruth took me to Aeropostale at the mall. I picked out some shirts and some jeans, and I tried the jeans on in the dressing room. The shortest-length jeans that were available were a little long, but I figured that I’d roll them up when I wasn’t wearing my shoes. I had also been wearing “W34” pants, so that’s what I tried on and they seemed to fit when I was in the dressing room. I purchased everything.
When I got home, I wore the jeans around the house for a while, but for some reason, I cut the tags off beforehand. The legs of the jeans that I bought kept sliding under the heels of my shoes. Mamaw Ruth hemmed them, but the legs were still sliding under my shoes. Then I realized that my jeans were too big around the waist. The shirts also turned out to be too large, and of course I had cut the tags off of those, too.
On the second trip, Mamaw Ruth took me back to the same Aeropostale store. I tried on “W33” jeans. Again, they seemed to fit while I was in the dressing room. I also bought a hooded sweatshirt and two long-sleeved shirts.
When I got home, I wore the jeans around the house. They seemed to fit, so I cut the tags off and wore them to church that Wednesday night. Our Sunday school class was supposed to meet at six o’clock, but after I got there, my friend Kim was the only other person to show up. Ashley arrived later, but that was after me and Kim decided to go home.
As me and Mamaw Ruth were walking back to the car, I felt my jeans sliding off. I couldn’t believe it! I was hoping that I’d make it home with my jeans still around my waist, as well as my dignity. Mamaw Ruth and I exited the doors through the foyer, and a few steps later, my jeans were puddled around my ankles. I was standing there in my boxer shorts and holding onto my walker while my grandma just pointed and laughed at me.
A group of people were passing by, and one smarty-pants guy asked, “Are you trying to moon us?”
After we got home, Mamaw Ruth measured my jeans. The waist on them measured thirty-six-inches, not thirty-three-inches. I don’t quite remember how many more trips me and my grandma made before I finally found some jeans that fit, but there was quite a bit of exchanging of shirts and jeans for it not even to be the Holidays. I guess that’s what happens when you go so long without clothes shopping.
A lot of people’s worst nightmare is blurting out a four-letter word in front of the congregation on Sunday morning, so I guess I should be thankful that I wasn’t standing in front of the whole congregation.
Keeping your pants on
So as a word of caution, make sure that you make up your mind what you want, and be sure that your britches stay up around your waist, even if you have to hold them up for days on end! Jesus will come back, and He has declared that He will come like a thief in the night! No one knows the day or the hour! And when Jesus comes back and catches anyone with their pants puddled around their ankles and they start rattling off a bunch of silly excuses, He’ll just give them a big ol’ belly-aching laugh and toss them into the lake of fire with the rest of the garbage, The Lord has no respect for sin, whether it’s saying a dirty word, lying, stealing, or murdering someone. All sin is the same in God’s eyes. I pray that you will one day join me and Jesus in heaven by doing everything that is Christianly possible to do what Jesus commands and not let Him catch you with your trousers down around your ankles when He returns!