I happen to be built physically like many men my age. I have a “Dunlop” belly (My belly done lopped over my belt). Therefore, when I hang around the house or work in the yard I have a loose fitting pair of short cargo pants that fit well but are a little loose around the waist.

I had arisen early to tend to some long neglected yard work, so I dressed appropriately: T-shirt, tennis shoes, loose fitting cargo short pants. My wife remarked as she left for work that we had been deprived this summer of any home grown tomatoes. All we could find was the hothouse variety as you might find at the grocery store. I had responded with a promise to find some delicious tomatoes somewhere.

I sat at the breakfast table and the thought came to me that instead of wasting my day sweating in the yard, I should perform the chivalrous duty of finding my wife some good tasting fruit. Tomatoes to be exact, nothing but home grown would do. I grabbed my wallet and keys and headed to the State Farmers Market in Raleigh.

I arrived at the market and parked near the entrance to the parking lot, between the farmer’s building and the retail building. I shopped around, found what I had come for, plus an assortment of other veggies, and proceeded to the truck to deliver my package. I had noticed that from time to time it had been necessary to pull up one side or the other of my sagging cargo short pants. Nothing to worry about however, all was well.

I delivered my package to the truck and decided to shop some more. I don’t get to Raleigh often, especially the market. In the retail building, I purchased some honey, and some preserves. I trooped back to the truck with that package.

The aroma wafting across the area of the fresh seafood had me convinced it was time to attempt to fill out my short cargo pants with a hefty lunch. I entered the restroom, tended to business and washed my hands, and as I exited, I noticed a presentation of pamphlets from tourist attractions all over the east coast, many I truly wanted to visit. Therefore, I grabbed a big bunch and deposited them in my other back pocket across from my wallet.

I thought about it later, I figured out between using the bathroom, and adding the weight of the pamphlets, I had reached the proverbial last stitch that broke the camels back of the sagging, loose fitting, short cargo pants. I took about three steps toward the seafood house and my pants ceremoniously hit the floor. I very nervously looked around as I hurriedly pulled my pants up and thanked the lord for the long hem of my t-shirt!

I have never been accused of being a quitter, and the aroma of that seafood had me convinced I had to have some, so using one hand to hold on to my very loose fitting short cargo pants I proceeded towards the fish house. I placed my order and found a corner table, and waited for my number to be called. The joint was jumping, it was as crowded in there as a Wal-Mart on a Saturday night. I decided since I already had what I had originally come for; I would enjoy my fish dinner at home. I filled my large cup with iced tea, and when they called my number, I left my tea on the counter and retrieved my lunch.

It was after I picked up my tea with one hand and holding the heavy seafood plate in the other hand that I realized I was in a sure fired pickle of a situation. My pants immediately hit the concrete floor with a flourish. Luckily, I had managed to exit the restaurant and was standing in the parking lot when it happened. I had nowhere to sit my plate or my cup except the cold, hard ground. It was a long ways down, and a long ways back up. I walked about three or four steps and whoops! There they went again!

I was never too good at math in school, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that two hands were not going to be enough to handle this particular situation. I was determined not to leave my lunch, and go get the truck, because I knew someone was watching me just for such an opportunity to steal it.

I managed to cross the parking lot and deposited my lunch and tea glass on a handy picnic table. I removed the pamphlets from my back pocket and sat down. I decided to put my wallet in my t-shirt pocket, and holding the pamphlets with my thumb on top of my seafood plate, I jacked up them loose fitting, short cargo pants, as far up my “Dunlop” belly as I could and made a beeline for the truck.

Overall, it was a pretty fun day. However, I find myself shopping for pajama pants with belt loops now. I’ll be right back.