Large and in charge

I understand that at six feet, six inches I am taller than the average person.
It’s hard to get asked on a nearly weekly basis if you play basketball without starting to suspect something your dreams of becoming a jockey are best put behind you. Although, for a long time I convinced myself as I wanted to believe people were seeing in me some as-yet untapped natural athletic ability. It’s an thought few people who have ever seen me perform an athletic activity would understand.
I don’t typically think of myself of tall. It’s not until I get right up next to other people that it occurs to me, hey, I can tell whether they’re starting to go a little bald on top.
I don’t know that being tall has ever really been good for much beyond guaranteeing I can always reach things on high shelves or have a good view at concerts. Mostly, it’s created challenges. Over the years I’ve gotten really good at ducking. And it’s always been hard to buy clothes. You try finding a pair of pants with a 38 waist and a 36 inseam. It’s like looking for a four-leaf clover or the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow or the real O.J. killers.
Still, for years I’ve resisted shopping at so-called big and tall stores. I’m not sure why, exactly. I guess I just didn’t like the idea of being singled out to shop at a special store just for abnormal people like me.
Lately, though, I’ve been looking for a new sportcoat. As near as I can figure, I need a 46 extra long, another size that does not exist in nature. After a few fruitless attempts, I decided it was time to give the big and tall world its opportunity. Approaching the store, located in a perfectly nice-looking shopping center, I started to feel like I should be wearing a trenchcoat and sunglasses and looking around to make sure nobody recognized me.
I should have known the store would be trouble the minute I walked in. The first thing I saw was a shirt that, while it seemed stylish, would have been big enough to power a competitive America’s Cup yacht or get the Kon Tiki across the Atlantic. There were pants big enough to serve as windsocks at most major airports. It quickly became clear the emphasis in the typical big and tall store rests much heavier, so to speak, on the first part of the name than on the second.
Extra wide seemed to be a much higher priority than extra long in the sportcoat section, and the selection of pants appeared to start at a waist size of about 40 inches. In the big and tall section at JC Penny I found a pair of pants with a 54-inch waist and a 30-inch inseam. Outside of Humpty Dumpty, I have no idea who those pants would fit.
I’m starting to worry there might be a problem with obesity in this country. Has anyone ever looked into that? It might make a good subject for some kind of investigative report.
I’m not sure what to make of my first big-and-tall shopping trip. My circuit of the store didn’t last more than five minutes, so I didn’t have much chance to form a strong opinion beyond, “Who are these people and why don’t they eat more salad?” I’m not sure whether I should feel good my uninformed opinion of big and tall stores fit so neatly with my slightly-better-informed opinion or bad because even the stores that claim to be made for me can’t even come up with my size.
Mostly, I guess I’m just glad I don’t need pants with a 54-inch waist.