The death of a favorite pair of pants is a tragic thing. I still remember when my favorite pair of light blue denim Eddie Bauer shorts bit the dust. They finally had become hole-y enough so as to seriously compromise my integrity as a mother. I never found a pair of shorts that I liked as much. (Okay. That was exaggerating. I have a pair of "Life is Good" shorts that I love more than just about anything in my closet. I'm really going to hate not wearing them this winter)
Today my buddy Sarah called to tell me that she had to give last rites to her favorite Gap pants. "Those pants always brought me compliments," she said as she poured out her heart to me on the phone. "And I put them on and found a hole."
Not a repairable hole.
She told me how those pants would feel good on bloated days...making her feel and look skinny. They went with so much of her wardrobe and were a joy to wear.
Oh yes, she hit the first stage of grief immediately: denial. But now it's been several hours and she has already worked to acceptance.
We're talking about a memorial now.
3 comments:
I have nearly wept over a couple of pairs of jeans. Still have one pair in my closet. Just can't let go ...
I have a pair of jeans I love that are currently unwearable, but I keep putting them back in my drawer thinking maybe the hole can be fixed. In all likelihood they'll never get mended, but there's always hope.
Nice descriptions. There's a sermon I did a while back that I titled "Letting Go of the Old Pants." Lots of folks seemed to identify with the difficult necessity presented by the demise of a good pair.
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