Make light out of crisis...

WARNING: There may be slight - only slight - dramatization ahead.

I come to you today to grieve the loss of a beautiful friend pair of jeans.
This happened within the hour and my only comprehendible way to get through this is to bless all of you with the humor of it all.

We met in the Citizen's section of Nordstrom's jeans. The year was 2009 - about 9 months ago. I was casually passing by, enjoying the eye candy of jean nature and BAM. This gorgeous, deep color of jean hit me with the force of great beauty. I reached a hand out toward the pair of 27s, just my size, waiting to give me the most perfect hug. Trying to calm myself, I repeat in my head that they most likely won't fit, don't get too attached, not to mention they're the price of a paycheck (for a part time worker & college student, that is). I retreat to the dressing room with the gold held tightly in my arms for fear of someone snagging them away before I have the chance to forge a bond with the lovelies. In the comfort of my dressing room, I pulled the jeans and hoped. As I caught my reflection, a smile spread across my awating face and my heart raced. They hugged me like no jeans ever had before. They loved me as I loved them, I could just tell. I had to have them, I know knew thought that Citizens were a great investment, that they would last until I outgrew them just like every pair I had ever owned. I ran this through my mind to get me through the pain of the swipe of my debit card.

I am remembering all of the amazing times I have had with my lovely, my jeans. 


And then today -- the first day that good ole' Auntie Flow decided to grace me with her horrendous presence leaving me an emotional, unstable being, teetering on reality at all times --  it happened. At about 12:30 p.m. I decided to do my laundry. Too lazy to drag my suitcase to the back of the house to  empty my dirty clothes into the washer, I grabbed as much as I could from the suitcase, arms exploding with cloth, and happily walked back to the washer and loaded it up as my old friend hugged me comfortably, perfectly. I realized the washer was only half full and sprinted to the front of the house to grab the rest of my clothes before the wash started (I realize that the washer does not actually start until the lid is closed, but I have this insane OCD about closing the lid before the water finishes filling up the washer). With seconds left I hiked up my jeans and squatted with my arms reaching out toward my dirty laundry. I heard a sharp snap and paused mid squat - my mind racing, rushing to figure out what that horrendous sound could have been and in the same split second I let out an earsplitting scream in shock. Then, sudden realization of what had just happened hit. The pressure of my sudden squat and my giant butt was too much for the strong, cloth, barely worn -- so it snapped in two.

I collapsed to the ground and bawled like a baby unable to explain the horrors that it feels while simultaneously laughing like a madwoman.

Below is a picture of the babes post trauma. It may be too much for  you. It rips my heart every time I see the picture. I advise you skip straight over the picture and head to the comment section to tell me all about how skinny and perfect I am and that this is a freak accident and not a result of my giant, horrendous ass causing such a great pressure upon my completely not worn jeans that they split straight in two, as I know you wanted to do as soon as you read this, even though most all of you have never seen me.

I realize that Nordstrom's will patch these right up but the horror of the event will never leave me. I will forever remain scarred by the splitting of my dear, dear friend. My lovelies will never be the same.