Every so often I take a notion to sort out the boys’ clothes. The school going ones wear uniforms each day so their wardrobes are not hugely plentiful. Some jeans, few long sleeve t-shirts and lots of hoodies.
Smallest Boy on the other hand has the wardrobe of triplets. All hand me downs. It is both a curse and a blessing.
A blessing for obvious reasons; whenever he grows out of something, I just have to rummage through the storage bags to find the next size up. A curse because he has loads of stuff. I mean loads.
So I decided to do a bit of a spring clean. He also tends to wear whatever is on the top of his pile so there are a lot of items underneath that haven’t seen the light of day in a couple of months.
These were the ones to go.
I needed to find an extra storage bag to put his surplus stuff until such time as I can find their new forever homes.
I found a sports bag and opened it up. There were three pairs of big people’s jeans inside.
Mine. From when I was that bigger person.
I lifted them out and held them up. They were in perfect nick.
I tried them on.
Fucking fuckers fit.
I knew it!
It seems I have fallen foul of calories; the little bastards that live in your wardrobe and sew your clothes a little bit tighter every night.
I can’t think of any other explanation.