The waist gap
by Jon Worley

After years of whiling away on the margins, I've finally decided to sell out. Get a real, decent-paying job. Make enough money to buy a music sequencing program (and the requisite hardware), anyway.

My wife made this task much easier by getting a job in a city where someone with my talents and interests (journalism degree, a fixation on computers, a desire not to work in a newspaper) might actually find work. We move down at the end of the month. Last week, I started looking for jobs.

I've already got an interview.

These speeding events meant I had to find some appropriate clothes by the weekend, when Barbara and I will be in North Carolina scouting living accomodations (and I will be interviewing). My youngest pair of dress pants is five years old. I do have a couple shirts that aren't completely worn out, but even those threads are thin.

So I did what all silly almost-thirtysomethings do: I went to the Gap.

Well, first I went to JC Penney. And I discovered the waist gap is still alive and well. I run into this problem every time I buy jeans, but I figured that with the nation's dual fixations on business and fitness, there would be plenty of nice chino-type pants out there with a 31-inch waist.

Problem number one. There are no men's pants with a 31-inch waist. Just like there are no jeans with a 31-inch waist. So I learned that I would have to settle for a 32 and cinch the waist a tad. Since I would be wearing a belt (I've got one in my closet somewhere, I think), that wouldn't be a problem. 32-inch pants, however, are about as uncommon as a mango tree in Minnesota.

Barbara, who has plenty of experience trying to find size 5 or size 7 pants with a 34- or 36-inch inseam, suggested a trip over to the "young men's" section of the store. She always checks the "misses" or "young miss" sections when all else fails. Alas, young men's waist sizes stop at 28.

I suppose that's what college is supposed to do. Take a guy from a 28-inch waist to a 34-inch waist without the required wearing of dress pants. For those six inches, there's jeans and there's sweats. If you're lucky. Guys like me (I'm 5' 11", 170, which kinda sounds like dead center typical) must be having all sorts of problems finding pants. Luckily, my legs are relatively short, as the only 32-inch pants around max out at 32- or 34-inch inseams. I can only imagine the lengths my brother Aaron must go through to find dresswear. He's the same waist size, but his legs are at least two inches longer than mine. I know I didn't see any 32x36 pants in the store.

I gave up on JC Penney and wandered across the way to the Gap. The not-quite Amish Country Gap sells its khakis in two basic styles: relaxed fit and easy fit. Now, I remember when clothes came in three sizes: slim (skinny), regular (regular) and husky (fat). I understand those titles. They mean something. They make sense. I was a slim, and damned proud of it. "Relaxed fit" and "easy fit"? I couldn't fathom any difference. I looked at the chart on the wall, which purported to explain which was which. I was right. There is no real difference. As you might have gleaned, I'm not a relaxed fit kinda guy. And all those swingin' and rockin' Gap khaki ads? Those folks aren't relaxed fit types, either. But where were those "regular" and "slim" khakis? The clerks were no help. They encouraged me to give up on the official khakis and try on some cargo pants (khakis with extra pockets). The cargo pants were short (32x32), but the loose waistline meant the pants are gonna hang down a bit anyway. As long as I keep my shirt tucked in, there shouldn't be any plumber moments during the interview. I plunked down my forty-two bucks ($42 for a pair of pants? I guess that's one of the hazards of selling out) and wandered home, muttering.

Maybe if I lived in New York, where people are fanatically thin as a cultural habit, I could find pants that fit. Maybe the folks here in York County eat a few too many faschtnacht and bratwurst. Maybe 5' 11" and 170 isn't the "regular" size I always thought it was. Stats keep calling. According to the latest height/weight ratio assessments, I'm a tad overweight. Me, a person who could wear "slim" pants, if they existed anymore. I can only imagine where the folks with 34, 36, 38 and higher waist sizes fit on the spectrum.

This hassle was enough to make me consider calling off my selling out for another year or so. Once I've been able to calm down and assess the situation properly. Once I find a pair of pants that actually fit. Once I acquire a more, um, prosperous waitline.

Jon Worley is moving to Durham, N.C., in less than a month.

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