Open Letter

To the girl whose pants I’m wearing,

Thank you. Thank you for these pants that fit. I found them in aisle 4 of a Salvos on a cloudy day in Melbourne. I wanted, no, needed comfortable pants for work. Work is hustling it at a bakery in Kew, a quiet Melbourne suburb. Thank you, whoever you are, for donating these amazing pair of pants so that I could buy them at a foot long sub’s price. Thank you for breaking them in all the right places, to accommodate a body type that never finds good jeans in stores. When I’m browsing at stores it’s always ‘snug on the butt loose at the waist’ OR ‘snug at the waist doesn’t climb up the ass’. Problems problems. But you, you gave yours away so that I, in my sustainable shopping phase chanced upon the miraculous pants, pants that fit. I wonder if you live close by. I wonder why you gave them up. Was it an additional roll around your mid-section which appears after a few weeks of eating your feelings or did you shed pounds, fitting perfectly into society’s construct of an ideal woman? Either way, my gain. But I hope it wasn’t your loss. Maybe you found another pair of magical pants to rock, maybe you bought bigger ones, maybe you’re wearing a mini skirt gyrating to music at a club rocking those thick thighs, maybe you’re sitting in your PJs watching Netflix by yourself or maybe you’re snuggled up in bed with someone who doesn’t care if you fit into skinny jeans. Wherever you are, girl whose pants I’m wearing, thank you. Thank you for pants that fit.

-R

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