MONDAY DIARY: ALMOST EXCRUCIATINGLY TRUE STORIES: A MALL-ADJUSTED LIFE

I think being a priest is one of the most awesome things ever.  Every once in a while, Fr G. or I, on a day things are going well, will look at the other with a wistful smile and ask "Why on earth don't more guys want to do this?"

But no matter how much one might like just about anything, there are aspects that are unpleasant - even most unpleasant.

It was time to go suit shopping - or at least I was told that it was time to go suit shopping.

I laugh reading this.  "Presidence?"  Really?  And I can't blame it on spell check.  And I am too lazy to draw the whole picture again for sake of a misspelling.  Let's just agree that I am not perfect.

And lazy.

Anyway, so we went to the mall . . .

Getting a suit takes forever especially since neither of us fit any kind of standard known to man.

And that's why we are priests and not models.  We spend most of the time covered in layers of material so that our bodily imperfections don't show. 

I've always had difficulties buying clothes.  Nothing ever really fit.  I have what I affectionally refer to as "monkey arms and legs" that off-the-rack clothes rarely come long enough to fully cover.  It was awful in band.  The sleeves of the uniform when I lifted my trumpet to my lips rose up to my elbows.

And IF I could find pants long enough - and a waist in my size - they are almost NEVER combined in the same pair of pants.

And we are both equally difficult to fit.  So we each had a lot of down time, which, in a store, is a dangerous thing.