Ladies and gentlemen, and particularly gentlemen, when you shop for pants, do check the fit. I don't mean pull them up and shuck them off as soon as you manage to zip the zipper. Put them on, zip the zipper and check the seat. Sit down in them. Lean forward in them. If you find yourself hiking them up mid-belly, get the salesman (or better yet, the tailor) in there pronto and make sure you've got the right size on.
Women's trousers come in such a bewildering array of lengths and styles -- capris, gauchos, flares, bootcut, palazzo, etc. -- we can wear almost any length of pants and get away with it. I'm not saying look good in them, I'm saying get away with it. Sorry fellas, but you can't. We shouldn't be able to see 2" of your socks as you walk down the hall. We especially shouldn't see your WHITE GYM socks under your nice trousers, because what are you doing wearing WHITE GYM SOCKS?
Baby, if you got back (or front), make sure your pants are long enough in the leg to compensate.
Ladies of extravagant size, please look at yourself in the mirror in your pants. Sit. Do they grab at chubby inner thighs? Do they pull at the crotch and at the lower abdomen? When you walk, do you hear strains of the "Shaft" theme song chucka-chucking in rhythm with your visibly vibrating thighs? Consider SPANX or other gently (or not so gently) slimming undergarments (control top pantyhose will do in a pinch). Go up a size and have your pants hemmed if you need to. Better yet, boycott buying slacks at all in protest of the fugly styles they inflict on us. Stick with beautifully tailored, flattering skirts. When and if you find a style of trousers that fits you well and looks good on you, get two or three pairs. I am NOT KIDDING.
I am a Fat Accepting American, and I do not wish to demonize any of us chubby folks out there. However, despite the natural beauty of our nekkid selves before God, there is something inherently unpolished about allowing all our wiggly bits to wobble about unconstrained. I'm sorry about it, too. Believe me, as one who has both inherited and eaten her way to a beautifully rotund figure full of wobbly bits, PeaceBang is VERY sorry about this, and intends to retire to a remote island in Mexico where she will never have to wear constraining undergarments ever again. Until that blessed day, however, she does not want any aspects of her physique to upstage her smile or to distract from her religious leadership. She therefore owns an entire arsenal of Helpful Underthings and is an obsessive booty and wobbly bits checker when shopping for pants.
Pants are PeaceBang's sore distress in life. She simply does the best she can and tries very hard not to hike her trousers to just under her bosom. They go around the waist, you know. If you can't find your waist, it may be time to rejoin the health club. And not just so you'll look cuter in your trousers. So that you'll be around to enjoy that retirement on a remote island in Mexico.