My Orange Pants

Here is the saga of my orange pants.

I entered Chico’s on a cloudy Saturday morning with the sole intention of using my $10.00 coupon. Anyone that knows me knows that I never leave money on the table. And I think all local retail establishments in the area are aware that I am the shopper who comes in and makes a $15.00 purchase with a $10.00 voucher. My picture must be in their back offices with a warning sticker to be on the lookout for the cheapskate!

       my orange pants

I headed straight to the sales rack. Of course! And there they were like a beacon from a lighthouse. The bright orange hue drew me in like a searchlight. Petite size 0. Wide legs. They were from Chico’s Travelers collection. The non-wrinkle, roll-up in a suitcase kind of fabric would be perfect for my summer travels. In addition, they would be great for my October trip to Greece. After all, that is a country of bright hues and fun colors. Right?

They were the only pair on the small free standing metal rack. It is as if they were waiting for me with the twice marked down, final sale price tag. I did not even hesitate. Quickly, I snatched the plastic hangar before anyone else could get it and dashed into the nearby dressing room.

Off went my dull navy blue yoga pants. I kept my white long-sleeve t-shirt on, even though it was not worthy of the snazzy orange pants. Standing in bare feet , I posed to admire my orange pants. Perfect length! Not too tight around my waist as to form a muffin top from my aging, loose midriff skin. Then, I turned around and looked in the full-length mirror over my shoulder. My butt has never been large, but now at age seventy it is more akin to a small, worn footstool.

        my favorite antique footstool

The smooth orange fabric hung from the waist band and curved over my posterior and then the wide legs billowed down like a full-length curtain in a Victorian living room.

Oh-h-h …I loved them. I smiled with delight at the way that the orange pants screamed happiness. They were me. Alone in the dressing room, I did a little twirl and sat on the wooden bench to make sure the pants cooperated for inevitable times when I would be seated. Yep! They behaved perfectly.

There were few shoppers in the store when I headed to the check-out counter. No one was aware of my impending purchase of the orange pants. Nobody realized that I was the lucky one who found the treasure of the day.

“Oh what a pretty color.” The sales lady probably had to say that so I would not have second thoughts. “You know this is a final sale. No returns.” Who would want to return them?

“Oh yes, orange is one of my favorite colors. People can see me coming.” I am not sure why I made that silly remark. I felt a need to make some sort of response and it was true that it was going to be impossible to miss me in my orange pants. But I do not make clothing purchases to necessarily attract attention. What I put on the outside of my body represents how I feel on the inside. And these pants broadcast the perpetual whimsy I have bottled up inside me since I was a little girl.

I can’t wait to wear my orange pants. I am not sure when their debut will be. However, I know for sure they will be rolled up in my suitcase in October and heading to Greece.

If you happen to see me in them before that, I hope they make you smile too because now you know the story of my orange pants.

Kim