the plight of jeans

I like to wear jeans a lot.  In the world according to me, you can just wear the same pair of jeans every day and that’s completely normal.

I’ve tried a gamut of brands and styles.  Old Navy jeans.  Gap jeans.  7 for all Mankind.  Joe’s Jeans.    Despite having owned many over the year, I don’t have a stock pile at all.  I have no tucked away pairs from high school or college.  No jeans that are too big or too small, squirreled away for later.  None, even, that never quite fit right or didn’t look good that I just crammed on a shelf.

Because eventually, the inner thighs of all my jeans wear out and explode.

First it gets a little grubby and pilly, like an old sweater.

Then it gets a bit threadbare.

And eventually, it just rips.

And because that inner thigh area is just so soft and squishy, there’s a fascinating fleshy protuberance that comes through the rip.  When I say fascinating, I mean that I can’t stop myself from touching it.  It’s like a weird hernia, all soft, but firm from being squished through an opening where there should be no ooze.

{I seriously considered posting a picture of the fleshy protuberance.  I may not be ready for crotch shots just yet.}

So, then I usually get a patch sewn on at the dry cleaners when the first thigh blows out.  And then a second one.

But the erosion continues and there are new rips.  New fleshy protuberances.

And eventually, I admit that yet another pair has been defeated by the unyielding friction of my inner thighs.