In this week’s Gintlemen post, Adrian has lost patience with sizing in men’s clothing.
Having not been a member of the exclusive Medium or Large club for many a year, it’s another one of those fashion frustrations us larger men face. Non-conformity to a six pack is punished by the number of X’s you have to go to to get something to fit right.
Unlike certain things there is no size conformity anywhere. One brands XL is another’s Large, whereas I once got into a medium without so much as a shoe horn or petroleum jelly.
I like to wear my T’s untucked, it’s my preference, but it drives me up the wall when you pull on said garment, and it moulds itself to ones contours like an alien face hugger. Not that I’m not proud of my paunch, I like it, and can still see my toes wriggling without aid of a mirror.
It’s then that my self conscious self takes over. I find myself aware of the elephant in the room so to speak. I’m sure nobody else can see, but I seem to take to flattening the bump with my hands frequently, obsessively.
Getting ready to go out is a nightmare, having no hair to style I can easily take 20 minutes playing musical tops, except when the music stops my hands are touching the tummy, my eyes are glaring in the mirror and self critiquing.
I have often liked to shop above my pay grade, and the higher up the price range you go, the smaller them shirts get. I once purchased a XXXL shirt that I needed to be removed from as it trapped me. Although I do have a few without that X, they are my go to cheer me up ones, I can fit in to …..!
I’m hoping to review one of the brands very soon, but until then you will always find me touching my belly at parties.