Old Guy Derrieres

By Jim Drummond

One of the fellows at the old guy waterhole had a sheepish look as he sat down to join the group this week. Somebody finally asked, “Why the embarrassed expression today?” The old fellow stirred his drink and paused for a while. “My pants fell down to my ankles this morning,” he slowly responded. “Are you losing weight,” somebody asked. “No,” he answered, “In fact I am gaining weight.” Another in the group chuckled and asked, “Anybody see you?” “That’s the problem,” the first fellow answered. “I was in the front yard and bent over to pull a dandelion, then my pants dropped to my shoes. I looked behind me as I hitched them up and saw the widow across the street watching. Now she’s telling anyone who will listen that I mooned her.” “That’s tough luck,” said a fellow at the end of the table. “I know who she is. She associates with a crowd of people who enjoy a good mooning story.” Our friend visibly cringed at that remark. Another member of the group sympathized with the first old guy. “That happened to me last week,” the sympathizer said. “I was crossing the parking lot to come to the waterhole and saw a quarter on the pavement. As I bent over to pick it up, my pants slid right down my legs. Luckily, I made a quick grab and hiked them up before they hit knee level. It seems as if that’s happening more often lately. A quarter probably isn’t worth the risk.” One of the older members of the group chimed in. “A few years ago, my pants started falling down,” the man said. “I couldn’t figure out why that was happening. I bought different size pants, and tightened up my belt, and pulled my trousers up to my ribs, but they would still slip down as I mowed the lawn, or took a walk, or strolled into a restaurant. It was really embarrassing when I was carrying a box of groceries with both hands and lost my pants in the store parking lot. I needed a third hand to hold them up. I finally asked my doctor if it is normal for a man’s pants to constantly fall off. Doc said it is typical for old guys to lose our gluteus maximus as we mature. He said that men lose 5 percent muscle mass each year after age 35. Statistically, by the time a man retires he won’t have a rump to hold up his knickers.” Several in the group visibly paled. One member looked ill. “Did Doc say if you could do anything about it,” somebody finally asked. The old fellow nodded. “He gave me several options,” the old fellow said. “Doc said I could do squatting or lunging exercises at the gym, or ride a bicycle to the waterhole, or wear suspenders.” “What did you decide to do,” someone from the group asked.

“I bought some suspenders,” was the reply. There was a long period of silence at the waterhole as each of us contemplated our rear end. Somebody finally interrupted the quiet. “My wife seems a bit envious that my behind is getting smaller,” came the commentary. “She also comments that my middle appears to be getting bigger. She’s concluded that any padding I had south of my belt is being forced northward and over my belt due to all the sitting I’m doing at the waterhole. She’s convinced that my hindquarters would get back to normal if I would stand at the waterhole and not sit down.” Somebody steered the conversation back to the oldest member of the group. “You said that you wear suspenders so that your pants don’t fall off, but you aren’t wearing suspenders today,” the group member queried.

“Is your bottom end getting bigger again?”“No,” the oldest member replied. “My wife reorganizes the house every few months. When she’s done, I can’t ever find my suspenders. The last time she reorganized I looked for hours. Finally, I asked her where they were. She acted exasperated and told me they were in the linen closet under the pillowcases. Then she asked me where I expected them to be. Frankly, I didn’t expect them to be in that particular location. This week she reorganized the house again. Once more, I can’t find my suspenders. I’ve looked just about everywhere. I’m going to wait a couple more days before I ask her where they are. It keeps her guessing. In the meantime, I’ll just walk around with one hand at my side, and the other holding up my trousers.”

Jim Drummond is a retired banker and Bozeman native.

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