Description
In an early CMA acceptance speech, Dolly Parton had to power through an embarrassing near-disaster with a dress made for her. When announced that she won her category, she swallowed hard, felt the fabric in front begin to tear (yes, tear), and seeing what was happening, the wife of Kenny Rogers at the time removed her fur stole and wrapped it around Dolly, saving her before she made the podium on stage. Dolly later remarked, “…My daddy says that’s what I got for putting 50 pounds of mud in a five pound bag.”
Alright, so why do I tell you that brief true story? Because it relates to these here pants. I have also heard it said, down here in the south, “My thighs’ld be fixin’ to look like biscuit dough in these’n here pants.”
Where I come from (*swallows hard) Portland, it is cool to wear skinny jeans, have your butt cheeks pressed up to mid-back, and look like Jack Skellington with knees only allowed to bend half way while carrying a tripple-foam extra-sugar not-too-hot-not-too-cold vanilla half-pump unicorn sprinkle coffee something rather and proudly displaying a fabulous man bun for all the city to feign jealously over (clip on and man bun toupees available for those without hair but still refuse to let hipster die).
Well, these Levis are like new. They are beautiful actually. Crisp. It’s just that after years of moving to the south and the constant temptation of BBQ and Sweet Tea (even with my running), I share another southern aspect…Dolly Parton’s struggle…sorta. Let’s just say that when I put these on and tried to move I looked like a young Michelin Man in training, a Sumo apprentice, a…I think you get it. It turns out that after having broken about thirteen lubed up shoehorns to get myself out of these I have no inclination of getting back in. So, they’re yours.
These are like-new Levi’s 511’s in size 32×30. 511’s, it turns out, are not for dudes like me who don’t skip leg day in the gym…or don’t skip a line at the local BBQ joint.
Alright, now where did I set my Latte?
