Complete denial of size

So we were at the MOCA Basquiat exhibit a couple of weeks ago. We were wandering around the tribal Homer Simpsom heads and I was more or less people watching because I can't fully understand contemporary art. I mean this stuff looks like drawings that cause kindergarten teachers to call child protective services to take the kid away from their clearly disturbed and unstable home. Anyway, there was this other couple there and I noted that I liked her shirt. I point this out to Ryan, and he says, yeah, I guess so, but complete denial of shoe size. I look at her feet and yes, her toes were sliding over the ends of her shoes. Okay, I admit it wasn't very nice, but I had to laugh.

Later I see said girl complaining to her companion. She's gesturing wildly, pointing at her feet, then pointing at us. Clearly, she's all, I told you I can't wear these shoes! I asked you if they looked funny and you said, nobody will be looking at your feet. Only women look at other women's feet. But THAT GUY noticed! I have to take these back NOW!

I felt bad. I had to run away and hide. Shame on me for participating in catty behavior.

Fast forward to this week. We're at the Patagonia summer sale. The only thing worse than a yarn sale is a Patagonia sale. Ryan is obsessed with a certain pair of capris. Yes, he likes and wears capris. He's convinced that men will hit on him, and I think he secretly likes it when that happens. Anyway, he picks up a pair and says, These fit perfectly! He purchases them despite my protests that there's no way he could climb in those when they're so tight I can see *everything*. No no no, he just had a big lunch. Yeah right.

Am I completely insane for thinking a 6ft, 170lb man should not fit into a size 30 waist pants?