My girlfriend said the best thing about this blog is; it feels like you're on the inside of the jokes. So, being the butt of this inside joke, I thought I would tell you about my pant splitting experience. I split the ass out of my jeans. I mean right out. I split them from helm to bow, from crotch to fly. I tore through those poor jeans as if they'd gone after my family. With one foul slash these jeans stole all the self confidence I had been slowly building. Getting myself to a place of physical acceptance; only to have it, quite literally ripped away from me. While at work- with a group of mostly men, a distinct ripping sound filled the air and a breeze blew through, where no breeze had blown before. One of the few gentlemen on set covertly approached me and whispered in my ear that my pants had split. Lucky me to have worn my conservative, full bum, black cotton briefs. Scurrying off to the washroom like a grade 8 girl who just started her period, I wrapped a shirt around my waist and kept on with my day, though with strong sense of em-bare-ass-ment.
My Hubby didn't get why I was so upset- as I thundered and stormed around, in search of some reason for this happening. So what, maybe these jeans were too expensive? And I really loved them, big deal. They are after all just a pair of pants; but I have trouble letting things go. For example my Penn state jogging pants I bought with babysitting money on a trip to New England. The only thing supporting my statement that these are still pants- is a flimsy (no more elastic) waistband. These joggers are the only thing linking my high school days to my married life- except Facebook. There is a certain comfort to be had, wearing an orange hoodie you've had for 8 years or a tank top that's 5 summers old. Cuddling up in the broken down fabric; with the ripped cuffs and frayed bottoms.
As for obliterating a 3 month old pair of jeans. Do you know what kind of psi pressure goes into splitting them in such a way? Oh- you don't 'cuz it's never happened to you? Well, let me tell you. While thinking about these new jeans I realized they suffered through: 3 Ladies ski weekends in Collingwood, moving, making a horror film in a 'building' where wind is born, 3 comedy shows, the streets of 1860 New York, 2 student films, 4 girl's nights -3 in and 1 out, Jilly's surgery and a friend's new baby. Now, I probably didn't wear those jeans for all that time, but a lot has happened in their short life. So, why mourn their passing? Oh yeah, 'cuz the looked freakin' fabulous and were 100,000,000 times more comfortable than any other pants I've ever had. (That might be a slight exaggeration)
After finally expressing these feelings to Hubby, he told me to get new jeans and get over it. But it's not that easy, replacing your favourite jeans takes time, effort and money. That being said, I bought 3 new pairs. Two of those pairs are way too long. A problem I had worked out with my former new jeans; but I guess long legs outweighs crotchless, at least I know Hubby is more tolerant of rolled cuffs. Okay, so having replaced my favourite jeans with these promising new pairs, I guess it's time I release the crotchless joggers and jeans. But, I can't just throw them out; maybe I'll chop them up and make them into a quilt...with all my extra time. When you've suffered a pant trauma like this, you're likely to have horrific pant splitting flashbacks- which have thrown me into cold sweats- specifically in the butt area and I keep trying to prevent any stretching, bending or leaning- until these new jeans get a little more relaxed, you know for the jean's sake.
PS- An interesting side note to this inside joke: Having told the story a few times, as is my custom, when something funny happens, the general reaction is surprise that it was my pants, and not my shirt- having an obviously high psi up there and two ever-present reasons why I don't wear button down shirts, I guess I was lucky after all.
My Hubby didn't get why I was so upset- as I thundered and stormed around, in search of some reason for this happening. So what, maybe these jeans were too expensive? And I really loved them, big deal. They are after all just a pair of pants; but I have trouble letting things go. For example my Penn state jogging pants I bought with babysitting money on a trip to New England. The only thing supporting my statement that these are still pants- is a flimsy (no more elastic) waistband. These joggers are the only thing linking my high school days to my married life- except Facebook. There is a certain comfort to be had, wearing an orange hoodie you've had for 8 years or a tank top that's 5 summers old. Cuddling up in the broken down fabric; with the ripped cuffs and frayed bottoms.
As for obliterating a 3 month old pair of jeans. Do you know what kind of psi pressure goes into splitting them in such a way? Oh- you don't 'cuz it's never happened to you? Well, let me tell you. While thinking about these new jeans I realized they suffered through: 3 Ladies ski weekends in Collingwood, moving, making a horror film in a 'building' where wind is born, 3 comedy shows, the streets of 1860 New York, 2 student films, 4 girl's nights -3 in and 1 out, Jilly's surgery and a friend's new baby. Now, I probably didn't wear those jeans for all that time, but a lot has happened in their short life. So, why mourn their passing? Oh yeah, 'cuz the looked freakin' fabulous and were 100,000,000 times more comfortable than any other pants I've ever had. (That might be a slight exaggeration)
After finally expressing these feelings to Hubby, he told me to get new jeans and get over it. But it's not that easy, replacing your favourite jeans takes time, effort and money. That being said, I bought 3 new pairs. Two of those pairs are way too long. A problem I had worked out with my former new jeans; but I guess long legs outweighs crotchless, at least I know Hubby is more tolerant of rolled cuffs. Okay, so having replaced my favourite jeans with these promising new pairs, I guess it's time I release the crotchless joggers and jeans. But, I can't just throw them out; maybe I'll chop them up and make them into a quilt...with all my extra time. When you've suffered a pant trauma like this, you're likely to have horrific pant splitting flashbacks- which have thrown me into cold sweats- specifically in the butt area and I keep trying to prevent any stretching, bending or leaning- until these new jeans get a little more relaxed, you know for the jean's sake.
PS- An interesting side note to this inside joke: Having told the story a few times, as is my custom, when something funny happens, the general reaction is surprise that it was my pants, and not my shirt- having an obviously high psi up there and two ever-present reasons why I don't wear button down shirts, I guess I was lucky after all.
RSS Feed