The Chronicles Of Jessica

There's kind of a learning curve that comes with this being married, I'm finding. I went yesterday to pick out a shirt for Paul to wear with this suit because he has this work function tonight that he has to dress up for, and between work and class he didn't really have time to go. Now you would think Paul has some experience dressing himself but actually, not so much. He knows what kind of jeans fit him and which brand of cotton tee tends to chafe but apart from that, nothing. And the world of men's clothing is a complete mystery to me, although I'm finding that it actually makes a lot of sense compared to the way they size womens clothes.

I went to the shirt department and I was pretty sure that Paul wore a 16, though I didn't know what sixteen referred to. I don't know what my size refers to either. I know the number gets bigger in proportion to how much fried chicken I ingest, but I don't know that the size number has any relationship to any specific measurement on my bod. But there were these other numbers after the 16; 32/33, 34/35 and so on. I thought maybe those were the pesky European sizes they print on clothes sometimes. I can't even begin to wrap my mind around those. If I ever found myself naked in Europe, I would be so screwed. (Heh!)

I called Paul on the cell phone and he didn't know what those numbers were either. Given the fact that there is no such thing as a saleslady in stores anymore, and I had no access to the internet, I had to ask this guy browsing around in menswear if he knew what those numbers referred to. I didn't know if this was really versed in men's fashions or not; he was wearing one of those black leather Harley Davidson jackets and he had a white handlebar mustache which kind of said "casual male" as opposed to GQ. But, I figure motorcycle guys have to get dressed up once in a while, right? They probably have functions of some kind, honoring the guy who drove the motorcycle the fastest or the guy who broke the most bones or something.

Anyway he told me that those mysterious digits refer to the sleeve length. This didn't really help me either, because I don't know how long Paul's arms are. I tried figuring it out by applying some practical theory (like, when he hugs me his arms seem to go all the way around my chest with some overlap, and I wear a 36C bra....) but that didn't get me too far. Then I remembered this friend I used to have who carried this little laminated card in her wallet with all of her husband's sizes on it for when she went out shopping. She never had to call him up to ask him, it was all just printed on that card. That card really seemed to me to be the epitome of adult wifehood. I remembered thinking that once I got married I would employ a similar method and that it would really confer on me the sort of partner status that I'd always been looking for. I think the fact that it was laminated was what really impressed me, actually. There's such a finality to lamination, it's very definitive. Anyway they ended up getting divorced so I guess you never can tell. Maybe they should have laminated the marriage certificate.

Well I made a wild stab at the sleeve length and everything turned out okay. I'm thinking maybe I should pick up some kind of style manual or something so I can figure out more of these things in advance. I admit to a certain amount of trepidation; I mean it took me this long just to figure out how to dress my own damn self, Paul could be looking like he's wearing his Dad's clothes as a Halloween costume for years before I get a bead on this.

And if anyone knows what's up with cuff links, please advise.