Adventures With Suspenders

It is almost a year since I started wearing suspenders. I was at the vet's holding down Buster with both hands when I felt my britches edging south. Gunda was running back and forth so often I wondered if she were admiring Dr. Hart's stitchery on my tailbone or my comely ass. After it was over I apologized for any offense and she mentioned suspenders. I told her I was just not ready. The outside world might see me as ready for the Wilford Brimley look but my inner world was not ready to concede to the Grandpa Grunt image. But, when one is shaped like a sweet potato one walks around cinched like a sausage, or with one hand on one's pants, wishing for a dedicated third arm for that purpose, or the dreaded suspenders. I had a long time prejudice against supenders based on those cute little shorts w/suspenders my mother favored when I was three. The first time the strap ended up in the toilet was the last time that getup passed muster with me.

So last year before heading south I purchased a pair of suspenders determined to wear them "under" -my little secret. Aside from some minor, semi-erotic chafing in the nipple areas, this seemed a good plan. The pants were hovering above cleavage level unless the pants pockets were really, really loaded down. The suspenders were usually under some real tension. To drop the suspenders off the shoulders the shirt must come off. Thus, I found myself in a Flying- J bathroom stall in Nebraska stark naked save for a puddle of pants around my ankles. That's when the panic set in-what if the stroke or heart attack hits now? "What exactly were you doing in there, sir?" "Beached whale in the men's room," over the public address system.

Since that time I have adjusted and developed a system to unclip the four clips, drop trou and take care of business. Age onset urgency is no picnic with four clasps. Nor is the suspending process which also could use extra arms: hoist trou, lift the shirt up to allow access to clips while clipping X 4 trying all the while not to clip flesh in the process. Adjust tension fore and aft.

It is wise to try to include a bit of underpants elastic under the clips at least on the back side. With no belt, unless the undies are relatively new or clipped, they tend to migrate south. The younger generation talks about "going commando" i.e., no underwear. Seniors citizens are prone to going "half-commando." This is not a comfortable situation. None of the erotic thrill of going about with no undies-more like an unwelcome surprise awaiting discreet adjustment.

Until they develop velcro implants or a better system, I am stuck with suspenders. If you wonder why old men look grumpy sometimes, now you know. It doesn't get easier.