Aug 112011

My clothes have finally gotten loose enough on me that I have to wear a belt to keep my pants up. One of these days I’ll need to get some new clothes, but I’m putting it off because a) I hate shopping for clothes, and b) we’ve got a bunch of other expensive stuff that sprung up as soon as I got a job (figures).

Monday I dug out a belt I had purchased a few years ago, but never actually wore—the belt drew attention to my midsection, which wasn’t an area of my body that needed highlighting. It still had the plastic security tag on it from the store, so I took it to Alpha Geek for help removing the tag.

“My pants are just getting too loose, I have to start wearing a belt,” I told him as he pried the tag off.

“Oh, boo hoo,” he said without sympathy, handing it back.

A moment later I had a new complaint. “This belt doesn’t have enough holes!” I declared.

“It’s the wrong size for you,” said Alpha Geek.

“It wasn’t when I bought it!”

Digging farther into the closet, I was able to find a ratty old brown belt that I could use. This weekend I’m going to have to blow ten bucks and get myself a better one that fits.

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