Dear Favorite Jeans, this is my Ode to You...
You perfectly washed and faded in all the right places jeans.
You soft fabric stretched in all the right ways jeans.
You rolled up just how I like them jeans.
You 2004 edition jeans.
We met at the $10 rack at Kmart. Yes Kmart.
Yes $10 jeans.
I knew we were meant to be together and bought you without wasting time trying you on.
You jeans that are missing the top button.
You jeans whose inseem - in both legs - has been sewn.
Twice.
You jeans who three times endured the rubber band trick for my bulging pregnant belly jeans.
Age has been kind to you and made you softer, cooler, and more stretchy jeans.
Age has been mean to me and made me saggier, wider, and less patient.
It is not your fault that I can no longer wear low-rise jeans.
You jeans who now lie in the trash jeans.
Our parting time has come, Jeans.
I've covered you with dirty diapers, moldy pizza sauce from the back of the fridge, and egg shells just so I'm not tempted to take you back out again.
Jeans, don't worry. I haven't traded you for Mom-Jeans.
But I have traded you for jeans that I don't need to mend that have a button that make me feel skinnier jeans.
They could never replace you, Jeans.
I miss you already,
My 2004 edition Kmart $10 Favorite Jeans.