Yesterday I went shopping for new jeans. Normally, it’s a simple affair. I prefer regular blue-jeans, not that pre-faded, pre-wrinkled, fancy stitched nonsense. Once in a while I’ll change things up and buy a dark blue/navy pair for when I feel like dressing up. I’ve always bought the same brand from the same store, an exercise that usually takes ten minutes, including time spent in the checkout queue.

Not so this time.

Went to my regular store. No regular blue jeans in my size. There were some pre-faded navy jeans in my size, and I decided to compromise. I nipped into the fitting room, just to make sure, and it was a good thing I did as I couldn’t even get my foot all the way through the trouser leg. Turns out they were skinny jeans.

On second thought, that might be a euphemism. Skinny is one thing. These trouser legs were so narrow my ankles couldn’t fit through them (and I have very shapely ankles, not to mention calves, even if I say so myself). Not that that mattered. I detest skinny jeans from a personal use perspective, and generally think a man wearing the things look utterly ridiculous. (Same goes for bootlegs – I don’t wear boots and I’m not a fan of the Bee Gees.)

But alas, there was not a single pair of jeans in that store in both my size and a regular cut, not even of the pre-mutilated variety.

So, I went down the road to the next clothes store. And the next. And the one after that. Everywhere the same. Apparently there has been a ban on regular run-of-the-mill blue-jeans. Everything was pre-something and in one of the aforementioned cuts that alternatively has me running the risk of developing deep-vein thrombosis or looking like an idiot (hang on, the latter applies to both styles). Not that it mattered, as nothing was in my size. Everywhere had several of the sizes smaller than mine and larger than mine, but nothing whatsoever in my size.

I literally (and I really do mean literally) visited every single clothing store in town that sells men’s clothes (which is about 40% of the total, with the actual men’s clothing section in some of them comprising less than 10% of the total floor/shelf space – no wonder I have such a struggle finding clothes!). I finally found some jeans in the last store I entered.

I had left that store for last, as their cheapest clothes cost at least twice as much as the most I’m willing to pay on a per-garment basis. The jeans were no exception at exactly double the price of the jeans on offer at the stores I usually frequent. But I was desperate, as by now I’d been clothes shopping for almost two hours, which is more time than I usually spend clothes shopping in a year.

Luckily the jeans were on special with a 30% discount if you bought two pairs, so in the end I got two jeans for the price I’d normally pay for three. Not a bargain, if you ask me, but at least it means I don’t have to run around bare-assed (which would have caused the neighbours to talk – people just can’t keep their noses out of other people’s business these days).

But it didn’t end there.

Back home I took out my purchase to pop in the wash before wearing (yes, I follow the instructions on clothing labels), and discovered the jeans were different sizes. I did not try on both in the store, as they were the same brand and the same size, as in their labels were identical. But the jeans themselves were not. One was a good two inches shorter than the other and fit markedly more snugly. I spite of being the exact same size according to the label.

After very brief consideration I decided I could afford losing some weight until the smaller pair fits better. I can’t afford going back to the clothes store. I might wind up on the evening news.

Now I just need some new shirts for the winter. I looked yesterday. I couldn’t find any. Those in the size I’ve always worn lately doesn’t want to fit over my upper arms, and before you ask, no, I’m quite lacking when it comes to biceps, so I find it a much more reasonable assumption, considering yesterday’s adventure also, that the clothing industry is conspiring against me.

I wonder if there’s a naturist community somewhere looking for a full-time counsellor/resident writer…

• That's life