Alterations

My mind wanders so much, I often wonder whether it will come back. In Church on Sunday, I thought about how I altered suits my Dad gave me. I think this was unrelated to the sermon but obviously I was not listening; I confess here rather than tell the Priest. I buy clothes off the rack where the only alteration needed is pant length on good suits. Otherwise I shop until something fits. Or maybe I wear clothes that do not fit. My Dad used to offer me expensive suits he hardly wore. I took ones that came close to fitting. He was only an inch or so shorter than me until he started shrinking. But at our heaviest, he weighed 60 pounds more than me. At our lightest, he was 30 pounds heavier. But my heaviest was his lightest so we had some close intersections. He was built like a Georgia Tech lineman; luckily my shoulders were just broad enough to drape his suit coats over. I would tell a seamstress or tailor that I lost weight and needed the waist taken in. That seemed less embarrassing than saying I wanted to fit into Daddy’s clothes. The alterations were amazing considering the fee was a small fraction of the value of the clothes. I stopped altering Dad’s suits after the time two fitters apologized for hysterical giggling, explaining it was funny where people lost weight. They were cinching up a baggy seat on pants I had not fully noticed from the front view. Before my sister’s wedding, my Dad bought and supervised the fitting of new Nordstrom suits for my brothers and me. I guess Mom did not want any of us showing up at the ceremony and country club reception in Dad’s old clothes.