dear tatty jeans,

by goatlove

Damn. Why is it so devastating when one of you bites the dust? I’ll tell you why, because shopping for jeans is a pain in the rear.

But geeze Louise we’ve had some times haven’t we, ol’ partner. We’ve traveled the world together! You were my go-to pants in Guatemala. You must have volcanic grit hiding in your seams from our foray to the top of Acatenango, by the light of the moon. And you have 1.5 years of Maine soil ground into your withering knees. Let’s not forget the unsightly random splatters of paint and the swoops of clay smeared across your inseams.

I should probably retire you, but I’m not quite ready to reorder you to the bottom of the stack. No. Not even if your saggy seat makes my butt look like a sack of mashed potatoes.

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