It's been rough. Finding pants that both go over my cast and I find visually appealing is no easy task. A stage five, first world problem. Skinny jeans? Forget about it. Looks like I'm gonna have to bring the bell bottoms back in action. I reach into the depths of my closet and pull out 2 pairs of pants: 1 bedazled flair and another khaki trouser, both dating back to 2004 (ancient I know). I lay them on my bed and stand, like a brilliant flamingo, contemplating, how will I ever make these pants look fly? I file through my brain of fashion genius and come up with outfits that turn these juvenile mistakes into present day trend makers. I sag the bedazled jeans, pair it with a deep v white t, my gold sneakers, a fly gold necklace and black leather jacket. The previously prude sissy jeans have become a little more bad ass. The khakis can play into a prep look and I can give it some shape by tucking in a brightly colored button down with an even brighter belt, add my classic loafers and a wide brimmed felt cap. BAM, a crutching Calvin Klein add.
But months of recycling the same two pairs of pants became torturous. By day two they were saggier than BA quota requires and constant laundry? Get real. So I headed to my favorite Iowa City boutique to check out some options.
The owner is working alone, we've met several times and she's always quite friendly. I grab some wool leggings, a perfect solution. She asks about my foot, I avoid the question, as I have exhausted talking about it, by telling her a little story.
Me- The doctor told me to go out and buy myself a few pairs of those Adidas snap off pants, you know the sweats with the buttons down the side. I looked up at the doctor and laughed replying, "You clearly don't know me at all." I would never live my life, for 3 months, in snap off sweats. So here I am, trying to make this faux pas more a la mode.
She thought this was hilarious. She reminisced on her time spent in a wrist cast. I concluded that someone must come out with a line for casted fashion forward folk. She agreed and found my company charming enough that she offered me a job when my foot is freed.
I politely declined, as I love my serving job, but told her I would be back in, often.
When life hands you lemons...
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