One Leg at a Time
I’m just like everyone else. I put my pants on one leg at a time. Same as all of you out there.
Well … um … my butler puts my pants on for me. One leg at a time, though, which is very similar to everyone else. Yessir, every morning at 11 a.m., I awake and have my pants put on---
I’m sorry; I lied. It’s my valet who helps me get into my pants. I don’t know why I said butler. Maybe I was trying to seem more down-to-earth by implying I have only a butler to help me instead of both a butler and a valet.
There’s an important distinction between the two. My butler is in charge of the male household staff, specifically in the dining room and wine cellar. My valet is more of my gentleman’s gentleman. He helps me with shaving and putting on pants and the like.
If my valet is away on holiday, one of my footmen usually helps me put on pants. But, I swear it’s one leg at a time.
Also, technically they aren’t referred to as pants. They’re jodhpurs. You see, I’m going riding later, so my valet is helping me to put on my jodhpurs one leg at a time. Just like everybody.
…
They’re breeches. I’m sorry. They’re not jodhpurs; they’re breeches. Geez, I keep underplaying things. I thought maybe you might not understand the difference between jodhpurs and breeches, which have different lengths and accompanying boot styles. And, I didn’t want to seem pretentious by having to call that out.
I guess it’s because I’m nervous. I want you all to like me even though my life must seem so different than yours. What with the servants and hunting weekends in the country. And the many, many galas.
I swear, though, whatever legs coverings I’m wearing---be it breeches or tuxedo trousers or silken pajamas from the deepest Orient---I have them put on one leg at a time. I promise you that.
Please like me.
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