It’s fall, and my mom wants to buy pants. I take her to a discount place in town that has scores of clothes between $10 and $30, with a few pieces a bit higher than that. We step in and we’re overwhelmed by racks of clothing in rows, and bright white fluorescent lights. There are a few people in the store, and the noise of conversation is apparent. I start scanning the racks – tops, dresses, bikinis, jackets..pants, pants, where do I see pants?! I start down one aisle, nope, jeans, nope dresses, nope, looks like it’s organized by brand. One catches my eye – there’s a black pair, I start to rifle through, pulling the pants along the bar to view each one. Nope, leather pants (woo mom – look at these! Mom shakes here head, her eyes grow.big..I’m sure she’s thinking back to when she really wore leather pants..when such pants were in style). Nope. The next ones are too busy, too corduroy (ugh!), too shiny (metallic something on the front), too weird (odd-shape), too skinny in the leg (my mom’s is older, after all!), no pockets(!). “Ugh – who is designing these pants, these days?,” I think.
I move down the aisle, here are jeans, looks like they are organized by size. What size could she be? I pull a pair off and hold them up to her small body. My mom stands there shaking her hands, she looks like she is shrinking into her coat. Don’t put that on me! I can hear her saying in my head.
Me: Mom, do you know what size pants you where?
Mom: Big
Me: Big?! What does that mean? You’re smaller than me.
Mom nods her head – Big
Me: Ok, Like 29“? I say, taking in her tiny waist..
Mom, “No,” but she can’t explain. This is going to be hard.
I’ve been walking up and down aisles. I finally see more pants that could be the right style. These have pockets, are straighter in the leg, and look like the kind of pants my mom used to wear – I see casual pants, and work pants. I grab a few and then, go with mom to the back. I explain to the clerk what I’m doing – she tells me I’m allowed 6 items. We have more than that, so I hand them to her, and she doles a few out. I settle mom into her room, and put myself in the next one.” I quickly change into one of the outfits I’ve selected. Looks ok. I stop to look in the mirror. I hear a noise.
Mom: Dear
Me: Yes, Mom?
Mom: Can you come here?
Me: Yes
I pop my head in, my mom wants me to go in.
I go into the change room. She’s standing staring at the pants. She hasn’t gotten undressed, and she’s not trying on the pants.
Me: What’s wrong?
Mom: I can’t change into the pants (she says softly)
I realize what I’ve done. I brought her to a store that doesn’t have a chair in the changeroom, so there’s nowhere to sit down for her to take off her pants.
She’s stressed. In her mind’s eye, she thought she could just presto chango get into the pants, but apparently, not today.
Me: I guess not today then.
Mom: sorry (mumbles)
Me: We’ll have to take you someplace that has a seat.
Mom nods. I return to my change room, and change back into my street clothes.
The lady at the shop is doing last call on the change room, so it’s just as well.
We step out and leave. Cross that option off the list.
..onto Plan B…