Wardrobe Dysfunction! (Part One)

Well... we've all been in a situation where an article of clothing didn't quite do it's job.  Sadly, I have had this happen many times - thus, the need for more than one part with this title.

When you are the only one who knows of your dilemma it's not too bad, just disappointing.  When others are involved it can be embarrassing... but is also hilarious.  Learning to laugh is the key.

On one particular occasion I joined some good friends in New York City - a place that holds my heart.  It also holds my pride after this incident.

I packed for an overnight excursion, focusing on only the clothing I would really need.  One item was a pair of nice, comfortable dress pants.  I knew we'd be going out for a nice dinner and jeans wouldn't be appropriate.  I chose my favorite black pants.

They are my favorite black pants of all time!  The material is light and moves just right with my body.  The pants fit exactly how I like them and because the waist is elastic there is never a concern on the zipper status. They are machine washable so no investment with the dry cleaner was necessary.  They are dressy, comfortable and best of all, I feel good when I am wearing them.

I have had these pants for many years and they are always my first choice for an occasion that calls for them.  Have you figured out the problem?  The age of the pants is the clue.

Well... we arrived in NYC, checked into the hotel and planned to change and meet for our dinner reservations after 20 minutes of freshening up from the drive.  I plucked the pants from my suitcase and put them on.  "Ahhh..." they felt good.

Then, the sound I heard was deafening!  It was as though a bomb exploded in my ears and I knew the attack on my pants was swift, leaving me in a situation no woman wants to find herself.  Had the Governor been alerted he would have declared a "State of Emergency" on my pants.

The elastic waistband had given in to old age.  "Time of Death... 10 minutes prior to meeting my friends for dinner."

I'm sure you know, but just in case you don't, when you hear that sound... which is identical to the noise made when velcro is separated... there is no return for the elastic.   It was devastating.

The pants I had just pulled on had no chance of staying put around my waist - even with the sizable backside I sport.  All combined, my "back shelf," "side handles," and "front rolls" would not be sufficient to hold the pants up.  I let go of the waist band and immediately the pants were in a heap around my ankles.  Given the abundance of equipment I just mentioned my midsection boasts, you can imagine how attractive I was standing there.

The guys reading this may not be able to relate to my situation.  "Just put a belt on," I can hear them saying.  Alas, this pair of pants had no belt loops.

I scrambled for safety pins but found none in my suitcase, toiletries bag or hotel desk drawers.  My last resort was to check the hanger with my blouse.  It was fresh from the dry cleaner and still on the hanger he used.  I was in luck!  There were two safety pins in the paper.  However, they were ridiculously tiny. They may have belonged to the people of "Whoville" in the classic tale, Horton Hears a Who.

It was a challenge just to open the pins, let alone use them as fasteners for my alterations, but I was desperate.  I went to work on my project and I'm sure it would have been a great sight for an audience.

I pulled the pants back up, gathered the fabric on the left side and worked at getting a pin in place.  Then, the right side.  For some reason this process causes one to do a rather odd thing.  Pulling the waistband together on my right hip, reaching around the front and holding it tight with my left hand while trying to pin it with the microscopic fastener in my right fingers, caused my legs to want to aid in the process.  Apparently my legs are not all that bright but they meant well.

In an instant I was running around in a circle, turning to the right.  I guess my legs felt I just needed to get closer to the situation.

Within moments I was dizzy.  My awkward position caused me to fall onto the bed.  Of course, that was when I discovered that the point of the tiniest safety pin in the world is among the sharpest things ever made.  I jumped back up onto my feet as quickly as I had fallen and made a noise I don't believe I have ever heard in my life.  I also bit my tongue in the process.  I was officially a casualty of the war with my pants.

I met up with my friends at the appointed time, having done the best I could with what I had.  I kept my situation a secret, kept my hands in my pockets when walking and kept up to the best of my ability.  I was relieved I made it to the restaurant without much incident... though I must have looked ridiculous to any passers-by.

During dinner both safety pins popped open, each one expressing it's anger with me for having such high expectations for its performance.  When one of my friends noticed I jumped a little with the second "pop" I confessed my dilemma.  Oh, the hilarity they found in my situation!  The gentleman in our party who was ordering the wine asked the waiter to bring a pair of suspenders for his "Friend with the clown pants on."

It was pretty funny, I admit.  It was also funny walking around NYC after dinner and holding my pants up until we found suitable safety pins.  That takes a surprisingly long time when in this situation.  When I finally found what I needed I had a choice between pink or blue diaper pins or a 12-pack of assorted safety pins, the largest ones being 3 inches long.  I opted for the 12-pack even though the diaper pins looked safer.

I popped my pins two more times that night but I had thought ahead.  Along with my pin purchase was a small pack of band-aids, which I did, in fact, need by the time I got back to the hotel.  Why they call them "Safety Pins" is beyond me.  I had several puncture wounds and scratches to prove otherwise.

My suitcase was lighter the next day since I left the pants in the trash.  So was my ego.  My friends thought they were hilarious when I joined them for breakfast.  There, at my place setting, was a napkin that was pinned closed with no less than six safety pins.  There was also a nice little gift next to my plate.  Inside was a mini stapler, a roll of tape, some push pins and even some binder clips - the kind where you squeeze the metal arms together to open the heavier-duty metal clip.

"Thanks guys!  Now I'm set for my next emergency.  Last night I really could have used whatever office supply store you ventured out to in search of these treasures."

"These aren't from any store.  I had them in my briefcase," my one friend shared and we all laughed hysterically over the irony of the situation.

I learned three things that weekend:  1- Test your clothing prior to packing it if you don't have a backup plan; 2 - Share your dilemmas with your friends.  While they will keep you humble they may actually have a solution before you spend the evening getting wounded from your own "fix" and then proceeding on a "wild goose chase" to get you through; 3 - I am someone who needs an "Emergency Kit" in my overnight bag.

There's another thing, which I already knew but it was a good reminder:  The sooner you learn to lighten up, the better.  If you can't laugh at yourself in these situations you'll be the only one in the group who is silent.