I hate to have to admit that I recently bought what I have always considered to be granny pants. You know, slacks from Alfred Dunner, without the inconvenience of a zipper, held up with elastic, the women’s version of sansabelt action pants for men. I guess the marketers think that adding the word action to the description makes them sound like they are for men young enough to be active. And they put them on young men for their catalog photographs, cutting off anything above the upper torso to add to the illusion. But everybody knows they are for men for whom too much action might lead to pants slipping down around their ankles.
Look at how Alfred Dunner pants are advertised on-line: except for the very few entries labeled jeans, they all have the phrase pull-on in their name. That description kind of makes them sound like underwear for toddlers, doesn’t it? And I’m sure you all know what type of underwear adults pull on that looks like what toddlers pull up.
I wasn’t looking for granny pants. I just wanted a pair of white slacks for our cruise and I was in such a hurry that I grabbed the first pair I saw. They fit and looked nice with the shirt I was also trying on. I didn’t give it another thought until I got them home and saw the label. Then I felt like crying.
Alfred Dunner is a brand I have always associated with my mother’s or grandmother’s generation. I don’t feel like I am that old yet. I don’t want to be that old yet. But I also have to admit I have been wearing another type of granny pants for even longer, replacements for those cute little bikini panties I used to wear. That style just isn’t comfortable any more. There is just too much of me, some of which, along with gravity, has the power to roll down the tops of those cute bikini bottoms. So I have given in and gone with comfort over vanity for my under layer. I guess going for comfort for the outer layer was inevitable. After all, I am a granny.