Inches in the States.
Centimeters in China.
Cubits in ancient Egypt.
But what units does my mother measure herself in?
Flashlights.
Yeah, I know.
Tailors are inexpensive in Asia, and a friend
referred me to this Project Runway Hopeful. I wanted to get a an easy-on easy-off robe made for my mom in
China, one that her rusty joints could easily slip into after showering.
Anyway, when I called my mom, she couldn’t find a
measuring tape, so she used what she had handy.
Of course, this unit of measure made perfect sense to her. Keep in
mind this is a woman who stored a chicken in her sock drawer.
Using the flashlight like a ruler and rotating it
around her “what used to be a glow stick thin” waist, my mom discovered that
her belly was now closer in girth to a search light.
“So mom, what’s the size of your waist?” I
asked, expecting it to be about forty five inches.
“Six and a half flashlights.”
“What?” I asked, thinking I had a bad connection from the US to China. “It sounded like you said flashlights.”
“That’s what I said, dear. Six and a half, that is, if you
don’t include the part where the bulb is. Just the handle. I got to go. Wheel is on.”
CLICK.
“So how big is your mom’s waist?” Jeff was listening in, guessing that my mom’s middle would be about
52 inches.
The tailor ended up making an entire wardrobe. I purchased a bolt of this Dr. Suess-like material at Kunming Fabric Market, about 8 meters worth or 34
flashlights worth. You can see it in the bag behind him. There was enough to make two pull-over bathrobes and three pairs of pajama
bottoms, one of which I am wearing.
The best thing is,
they all fit perfectly, like a glove, or ever-ready or maglite.
This is the flashlight tailor. He is now making me a new dress for thirty five dollars. But I let him measure me the old fashioned way.