There was a time when I was not as attentive to patterns of misinterpretation among my fellow man; however, now that I am older and perhaps a little wiser, things really “get to me.”


            For instance, shopping for a pair of shorts at a well-known “super store.”  I maneuver my cart to the men’s department and find the rack containing hundreds of pairs of shorts.  The majority of these were size 28 through 36 and only one pair of size 42.  To compound the fracture, this pair was the color of pale vomit.

            Now, my question is:  Is the store under the misinterpretation that the ones of us who have a big belly and gaunt legs are not to appear in public while wearing shorts?

            The same holds true in the shirt department.  If, by chance, we can locate a size large enough to contain our bulk, the tail will not cover our belt.  Again, there are hundreds of sizes 14, a few of size 15, but if we are lucky we may find one size 17 and it will be tucked underneath the rack, wrinkled and dirty.  Who decides that the only ones who have a need for a shirt are the small, trim, undernourished of the species?

            Another problem is in the area of footwear.  While browsing in a name brand shoe store, I discovered that the majority of their stock consisted of expensive jogging shoes; ankle hugging, tongue bulging, nylon with tire tread soles and some even containing air bladders and pumps.  And they expect a person of my caliber, who becomes winded with even the thought of getting out of a lounge chair, to consider the purchase of a pair of “running” shoes?  Where were the glove-soft slippers with bunion protectors and the smooth tread that doesn’t jar the teeth when taking a step?

            Let’s face it, the world in no longer geared to the mature.  Somewhere, someone has decided that the young are the only ones who matter.  Where the heck do they think the young gets their money?  From us old folks, that’s where.  Judging from the attire that  some of this younger set wears; it is my opinion that they have been forbidden to eat at the money trough for quite some time.

            I believe that the time has come for shop owners to realize that the ones of us with big bellies and a pension check are just as important as those scrawny, young dudes who have nothing but a credit card from “Toys ‘R’ Us.”