The Fitting Room

My older daughter is getting married next month, so I hope I am permitted a sentimental poem.

                                              The Fitting Room


                               My pant size has been the one constant
                               in my life since high school:
                               32 waist, 32 inseam.
                               Easy to remember.
                               Slimmer than average.
                               Something to be proud of.

                               But as I try on a suit
                               for my daughter’s wedding,
                               I have to hold my breath
                               to button the trousers.
                               In the mirror, the wrong
                               kind of hourglass figure,
                               showing exactly where
                               the sands of time have run.

                               After a moment, I decide
                               this suit is much too dark,
                               and I truly prefer the khaki tan,
                               whose pants are a 34.
                               I can see myself in it,
                               escorting my beautiful
                               daughter down the aisle.
                               Something to be proud of.





Note for foreign readers who are on the metric system:  The 32 and 34 refer to inches.  I can't quite convert it to centimeters, but 32 inches is a relatively slender waist for a man. 34 is more average.