Yesterday, my favorite jean shorts gave up the ghost. (sigh) I had been nursing them for months, being careful when I put them on and took them off, but, finally, I couldn’t deny the truth any longer. The time had come. They had to be put to rest. πŸ™ Will I ever find another pair so fine as these? It’s hard to say. I think they will be hard to replace. πŸ™

At first, there were small holes at the corners of the back pockets. So small that you could just see a hint of the color of my underwear. The jean fabric frayed on the tops of my thighs until small holes appeared there, too. I ignored them. So comfy and soft and perfect were my jean shorts who cares if someone can see my skivvies? Only a small dot anyway, right? Besides, they would live with me forever, and I would pet them and call them, “George.”

But those small holes grew and grew until you could see large swathes of my thighs and ever larger patches of colored underwear. Charlie, and Lily, kept telling me that they could see my underwear. I told him that I didn’t care. So, they can see my underwear. Big deal. If I pull my shirt down, they can’t. Β And, sometimes, the underwear match my shirt, so I’m color coordinated. πŸ˜€

The end came yesterday. I bent down to look at something, and I heard this heartrending sound. It was the death knell of those jeans. My beloved friend whom I will sorely miss. While they were Levi’s, the designers are constantly changing the cut of the jeans. Who knows if I will find such beautiful, comfortable jean shorts again. πŸ™

So, here I give you my jean shorts.

This picture was taken on January 25th. Less than two months ago. As you can see, the hole above the pocket is fairly small.

jean shorts

The front is much worse for wear at this point. By the end, yesterday, both legs sported rips larger than this one below.

jean shorts

The final day. See, my undies match my shirt top. The rip is as big across the other side. The only thing holding them up at this point is the middle seam. Even I have to admit. It is time.

jean shorts

I loved you. You gave me two to three years of comfy wear. Now, I must send you to jeans heaven, wherever that may be. (sniff, sniff)