pants falling down

When my daughter was in the second grade, her teacher had all the students in her class write daily essays. The minimum was two sentences and Rosie mostly wrote the minimum. The teacher would give a theme or a question each day and the children had to write.

When the theme was "write about your most embarassing moment", Rosie wrote "My most embarassing moment was the time my pants fell down in a food store."

Her pants did, indeed, fall down in a food store when she was four or five. I was amazed that she had been so embarrassed that she wrote about it at age seven. At the time, I was unaware she had been embarrassed, primarily because we were in a wing off the regular grocery aisles, a kind of bend. Her pants fell down in the back of the bend, no one was within our sight so no one saw her. And she pulled her pants up so fast I barely saw them down.  It had enough energy for her that it became her most embarrassing moment a few years later.  Maybe she could not think of anything embarrassing.  Maybe she really was embarrassed when her pants fell down with no one around but me.

My pants once fell down in public. In 2006, shortly after I moved to California. I lost a lot of weight that year. I had just bought a new pair of smaller jeans two days before they fell down because they were too loose. I was standing in line at SFMOMA to show my membership card and get a ticket to enter. And, poof, my pants slide down off my hips. Of course I caught them before they fell further. It was not embarrassing. It was thrilling. Having new pants fall down after only owning them two days because they had gotten loose since I bought the was a lot of fun.

A few days ago, walking home from the swimming pool, a dazed-appearing, homeless-appearing man was swaying on the corner immediately in front of my building. I concluded 'homeless' because he was carrying a sleeping bag. He appeared completely out of it and was staggering in a small space, as if he was unsure where to go. I faced him as I crossed the street to return to my building so I saw him as I walked across Oxford Street. Half way across, he dropped his pants. He was naked under his navy blue work pants. I don't think he was flashing. I think he needed a belt.

I went into my building and asked my property manager if she thought I should report the guy. Not to get him in trouble, but, perhaps, get him some help.  He sure seemed to need it. She and I peeked out to see if he was still there before we called and he was gone.

pants falling down.