This blog was originally set up as a means of keeping friends and family updated during Nolan's surgery and hospital stay in January 2008. It has evolved into a report of the adventures he and his twin sister, Reagan, AKA "The Twinadoes" share with their family and friends. As well as our pursuit of happiness through food, wine, and friends.
Friday, May 29, 2009
You're Wearing an F'ing Belt!
So, I might have had a little wine with dinner and might be in a bit of a snappy mood, but I've got to get this off my chest.
What is the deal with wearing pants so baggy that you have to hold them up as you run across the street to beat the green light? AND YOU ARE WEARING A BELT TO HOLD THEM ON. BELOW YOUR ASS!!!
WTF
We went back to our old 'hood for dinner tonight. It's been almost 2 years since we've moved out. Things have changed.....and not for the better. Sad, since I really liked our house and loved the location-close to downtown, but yet far enough away. (Well, not anymore.)
I guess when we lived there I was immune to these things or maybe more open minded bc (before children.) Maybe in my *gasp* old age, I am becoming judgemental. I like to think of it as more intolerant of those not using common sense.
You see, there is a thing known as a belt. It was intended to be an aid to hold your pants up. Not to hold them down around your ass cheeks. What makes anyone think I want to see their tighty whities or boxers du jour?! Also there is such a thing as a waistband measurement that is about the size, or a little larger if you like wiggle room, as your waist measurements themselves. When did it become acceptable to wear pants 4 sizes too large? I know people fluxuate, but I've never heard of someone that is a 32 waist needing a 42 waist.
Things got so bad in this particular city that the school system wrote into their dress code about wearing baggy pants and t-shirts 6 times the size you really need to wear. Guess this guy didn't get the memo.
I get that this "look" comes from ill-fitting prison garb. No belts in prison to help hold your trousers up. This is not prison. You have a belt. Use it the way it was intended.
This is not Compton. It's looks ghetto and it is contributing to turning a once lovely neighborhood into just that.
Sad.
That is why we moved our family out. No way in hell is my son walking home from school showing his ass cheeks off to the neighborhood.
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