The loose linen pants

The other day, I was hanging out with a friend of mine who might well be more talkative than I am. For those of you who have had the honour to meet me in person, it must sound odd and unlikely but I hold on to my version of the story. And that’s not the point anyway! Now, listen.

So this talkative friend of mine tells me about her recent shopping spree at Toy Market. The friend is wondering whether I would want a pair of pants she’s bought because she can’t fit in them and she apparently thinks that the next size down from hers in mine. Ahem, I did not want to put her down but, really? Really? So she keeps on talking and, as it were, the story suddenly catches my attention. We’re talking loose linen pants, the kind that travellers who have landed straight from their year-long spiritual journey in India wear, thinking Africa’s got to be hot. It’s been a secret dream of mine to own such a pair of pants but I have this deep inhibition that keeps me from anything that might make me remotely look like a tourist. This was my chance! I took it gladly, feeling like a little girl who’s been given a fluffy princess dress and is allowed to run down the hill and roll in the grass with it. That’s another dream of mine but never mind.

What I had not anticipated is the fact that the trousers are attached with a couple of strings and nothing else holds them fast onto the waist. First of all, it took me some time and a few contortions last night to figure out how to tie them up properly. Secondly, HOW ON EARTH AM I SUPPOSED TO FEEL RELAXED KNOWING THAT THE STRING MIGHT GET LOOSE AND MY PANTS MAY FALL OFF WHILE I’M OUT THERE?

I am absolutely not being paranoid. The first incident of the kind I’ve been given to witness is a Latin teacher in secondary school who had a misadventure with her wrap skirt during a lesson and could not contain the class for the rest of the term. The second incident is…a lot more personal. It is the now world-famous episode of my bottoms being exposed in the middle of the street on my second day in Malaysia. It could easily be one of the most embarrassing moments in my life. Heedless of my former Latin teacher’s experience, I was wearing a wrap skirt. During the bus ride I tried to readjust the skirt because it seemed like it was sliding. I stood up to get down at my bus stop, still holding my skirt, but at some point I had to choose between ending up on all fours or letting go of the skirt to hold the ramp. No sooner had I stepped on the street that a whiff of wind finished it off! Fortunately enough, it was already nightfall and there were not many people on the street so I could hide my mortification quite successfully. That’s what I like to tell myself at least. I was so fidgety it must have taken me a good couple of minutes to rearrange my attire. On that day, I discarded the incriminated skirt and swore never to wear a wrap again.

And here I am today, wearing the new hand-me-down linen pants! Yeah, I’m adventurous like that.

Advertisement