I don’t know about you, but I’m sick to death of the whole droopy pants and boxer shorts trend. Who in God’s green earth started this silly fashion? At first, I thought it would be here today and gone tomorrow like the baggy M.C. Hammer pants, but it has been years now and the stupid style hasn’t let up.
I was driving to the store the other day, and I saw a young kid with his pants sagging mid-way off his rump. Underneath his pants, a pair of Wile E. Coyote boxer shorts covered his backside. I think he was trying to run to the bus stop, but he could barely move and hold his britches at the same time. He must have had at least five inches of excess denim around his ankles, and if he had let go of his pants they would have fallen down. I don’t get it. Why would someone want to walk around all day holding their pants up?
I see these kids wearing these pants all the time and I’m always tempted to say something, but it was my mother who actually called a young man out. My mother is all of five feet tall, but she’s packed full of spiritual wisdom. I think of her as the Christian equivalent to Yoda. She ambled up to the young man and tugged on the hem of his t-shirt. “Excuse me, young man,” she said, and tugged until he turned around. “Do you know that your pants are hanging down and your behind is showing?”
He looked down at my sweet little momma and then at his friends who were laughing at him, and he pulled his pants up. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you want me to see your behind?”
“Well pull your pants up then.”
Now if I had tried that. I would be dead, stuffed in a bag, and tossed somewhere along the Chattahoochee River. I think when you reach a certain age you officially receive a “say any doggone thing you want to say” free pass. Doesn’t it seem like that? And with my mom there is no fear. She’ll just say what’s on her mind and keep moving. I want one of those passes.