Need I really say more. My waist, what little of it I can still find, contiues to rise like an old man’s pants. My pants, on the other hand, are designed to stop somewhere around where my hips used to be before they decided to migrate south towards my knees.
I now know why my grandmother wore one rather shapeless black dress from her widowhood till she died. It was just easier. And the support knee highs didn’t show. And she never had to worry that when she raised her arms, her butt crack would show at a time when few, including her, wanted to see it.