The Death of Pants

I have, at times, been known to rail against society's restrictions. These restrictions have, at times, included wearing pants. My rebelliousness has taken the form of leggings, skirts, No Pants Metro Rides, and an inordinate amount of time spent in nothing but a bathrobe. 

But there are some pants that truly have my heart, and those pictured below are a pair of them.  

I got these pants at a Free Store event in Virginia (Free Stores are the best....like thrifting, but even more "poverty-stricken hipster"). They were slightly baggy "skinny" jeans, in between boyfriend pants and regular skinnies. They gradually grew ripped but I just accepted that as the style and kept wearing them. They were my go-to comfy jeans. I wore them in class, on long bus rides, late nights at the library...My Gran called them my "Holy Pants".

I wore them to rehearsal this weekend and was kindly informed by a fellow cast member that I had a hole right on my butt, strategically placed where I couldn't see. I was told this, of course, after we were half way through rehearsal and had just done a dance scene. Meaning, the entire cast had seen this hole for awhile and hadn't said anything....in fact, one young man chimed in "Yeah, I was wondering if that was a fashion thing..."

A fashion thing?

So here's to my pants, those comfy, go to, Holy jeans that always had my back. Until they didn't.

I still can't bring myself to throw them away.