I hate to say this: I am not the sylph I was a few years ago when I made those two pairs of wool pants – one in gray Harris tweed and the other in plain old black.

The pants are lined, have side-seam pockets, a zip front and fit with a casual kind of ease that make them a joy to wear. In other years, those two pairs of pants have been my standbys during the below-zero days of late December and January.

But this year, below-zero days did not arrive until mid-January – just when I was convinced global warming had erased that phase of winter. Of course, the minute the temperature dropped below 10 degrees, I reached for those pants. What a shock it was to discover that the waistbands on either pair no longer fit comfortably.

I am one of those lucky few who has always worn a size 12. Generally speaking, I rarely have to fiddle with patterns to make them fit. I was not a happy camper when I faced up to the gruesome fact that it wasn’t the pants that had morphed into something smaller, it was I who had added padding around my middle.

I wanted to wear those pants – the weather demanded it, tradition demanded it. Those pants keep me warm and looking suitably wooly in keeping with the season. Obviously, I wasn’t going to shed those few offending pounds overnight. Clearly, I was going to have to let out a couple of belly pleats and replace the waistbands on the pants. But that hinged on one vital thing: wool fabric leftover from when I made the pants.

The big, blue, plastic storage chest in the room only I may enter is where I toss leftover wool fabrics. There was no telling what I had in there – hopefully, not moths. Not until I dug all the way to the bottom did I find what I was looking for – enough of both the tweed and the black fabric to make new waistbands. I danced a little jig of delight – oh, what a good girl am I! – as I carried the lengths of fabric to the kitchen table where I cut out the new pieces.

Of course, if I had not found the matching wool fabric, I would have used the red and black plaid or the rust-colored tweed for waistbands. Fashion rules, I have found, demand to be shredded.

Removing the old waistbands required very little of me except 15 minutes of my time and a pair of small, pointed scissors with sharp blades. Ripping something out is always easier if you know how it’s put together.

Another 30 minutes at the sewing machine and the deed was done, including making new buttonholes and sewing on the buttons.

I suppose I could have gone shopping for new clothes instead of revamping the old pants, but I greatly doubt I would have found pants of that caliber, which such deep pockets, in my price range if indeed such pants even are manufactured anymore. It cost me $10 or less, each, to make those pants – well worth my while to remove the snug waistbands and put on the longer ones.

A short session with the steam iron to press in the creases and I was ready to face the bone-chilling weather in pants that fit – again.

Snippets

. On Valentine’s Day, The Orphan Foundation of America will send hand-knit scarves and care packages to America’s foster youth who are attending college. An estimated 13,000 former foster youth attend colleges and universities across the nation, most without any family support.

The Red Scarf Project is part of the National Care Package Program created by The Orphan Foundation 14 years ago to support and encourage young people who have been in foster care. To learn more about the project and how to participate, visit www.orphan.org.

. To find free knitting patterns and free video knitting tutorials, visit www.KnittingAtKNoon.com.

Call Ardeana Hamlin at 990-8153, or e-mail ahamlin@bangordailynews.net.