Someone you know has new pants. "Well, Lah-di-dah", you are thinking, "Why should we care?"
Because this was no mere shopping jaunt, this was an expedition. To an infamous big-box retailer that you don't want your friends to know you shop at, and where (to avoid mutual embarrassment) you hope you don't run into anyone you know, no matter how slightly.
So you go as far away as possible, to one that is in another State, or time zone, even. The place is always just too warm, like a Greenhouse or a Neonatal ICU; and you sit sweating in the dressing room, trying to wrestle your way into the pants you have chosen. They claim to be the same size as the ones you are replacing, yet they are more like sausage casings than suitable vestments.
There go your hopes that all the exercise and careful eating means you can "downsize". Now you will have to buy even bigger ones. You leave there with what are essentially khaki harem pants, and think, "If I donated these things to orphans in the Third-World, they could use them as two-man tents."
That is why you should care.