Now, I hate to sound like an old fuddy-duddy but, Geez... How about you all just fold those giant jeans and trousers neatly and take them up to the attic to keep your granddad's Nehru jackets and Uncle Ed's Leisure suits company? I am actually offended by the sight of underwear not my own. -And I hate to be offended. To be offended requires a certain level of judgement and superiority I don't easily embrace. Okay, okay, I don't really believe that one either. But Geez! Yesterday, I saw one lad with his hand down the back of his exposed boxers scratching his bum. Nobody needs to see that!
Way back in the day long before the liberals invented self-esteem, super sized clothing was the mark of unfortunates who because of life's circumstances had made their way to foundling homes. Their donated clothing was often ill-fitted. The difference here is that even the waifs pulled their pants up, sometimes up too far but, up and they proudly wore a belt at their friggin waist.
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Amen, my friend. Amen.
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