While we were at Noodles waiting for our food, we watched a woman cleaning and restocking the beverage cooler. She was wearing some khaki pants that I liked. The more I looked, the more I liked them. They had a seam down the back, a straight leg, and a slotted cuff with a useless drawstring. They fit her close at the waist and around her ample posterior, but hung more loosely past the thigh. When she bent over, they stayed against her body. I never saw her butt crack. She stood and kneeled and squatted and bent and stretched, and through it all, her pants stayed secure. They didn't rise up her waist, seeking her brassiere and making a fault line up her rear; they didn't fall down past her hips, seeking her ankles. I was transfixed. She wasn't wearing a belt, and there was no elastic obvious. The rise seemed normal--not '80s-waisted or Brazilian-shave mandatory. What were these pants? I should have asked her.
Speaking of pants and cracks...
Kayleigh deposited a rather nice pair of jeans onto my bed this morning. "I hate them," she said. "They fit, but the rise is so low that it shows off my butt crack." I'm glad she doesn't want to show off her butt crack.
Which reminds me...
Many Christmases ago (my dad's last, actually), as we were decorating the tree at my parents' house, my mom bent from her chair to reach an ornament on the floor. Kayleigh, still a tiny thing, stood behind her. As my mom's body went forward, the back of her pants went downward. With my mom's great crevice spread before Kayleigh's wondering eyes, Kayleigh slipped her hand between those soft cheeks.
My mom rose slightly, a look of terror on her face.
"That's Grandma's butt crack," I said.
"Butt cack," Kayleigh repeated, sliding her hand out of my mom's abyss.
"Oh!" said my mother, and she started laughing. Believe me, we all did.
Eric says he'll never forget the look on my mom's face.
7 comments:
You crack me up!
It's a good thing your mom laughed, huh? At least Kayleigh didn't say BIG butt crack.
Good one, Marcia.
Rotten, if my mom had laughed too hard, Kayleigh would have gotten her hand stuck. Why do you call yourself The Rotten Correspondent?
THAT is funny. I have some capri jeans and I was cleaning the house and not wearing a belt and then I sat down on teh floor with the girls and they started laughing and one stuck her finger "in between" and said "I see your butt!" It was more lazy than anything, usually I can get them to stay up
Kids tell it like it is, don't they? And what is wrong with clothing designers that they can't make clothes that cover up the parts we want covered?
Kelsey delights my widening gluteals. She says I'm squooshier and comfier and likes me better this way.
I picked the name when I started my blog because I was terrible about keeping in touch with people. Actually the whole blog started as a way to apologize to people I loved for being such a...rotten correspondent.
I'd like to think I'm getting better...
Ah, makes sense. You're surely getting better--but do people you want to stay in touch with read it?
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