Nando Gives Me Clothes

Yesterday, when I got home from work, Nando, my racist, Italian housemate, was sitting in the lounge. When I walked in, there was a small pile of neatly folded clothes, sitting on the sofa I usually sit on. Nando told me to look through the pile and if there are any items I want, I can have them. Otherwise, he's going to get rid of them.
Nando's style of dress is a bit different to mine. He wears a lot of T-shirts and pull-over tops. I tend to prefer button down shirts. Still, I'm not one to turn down the chance for free stuff. I was concerned because I think Nando is a little smaller than I am. At first, none of the things I look at fit me. Finally, I started to find items which are my size. I ended up with a couple of pull-over tops and a light-weight jacket. I have wanted a light jacket all summer, so I'd have something to wear on summer evenings, when it gets a little chilly. Innocently, Nando admits that the reason he wants to get rid of these clothes is that they don't fit him anymore. It must be the weight he's put on. His loss is my gain, or vise-versa.