Tomorrow is officially the first day of Autumn, and with fall just around the corner, I figured I would get a head start on my fall cleaning. So, armed with a critical eye and a trash bag, I attacked my closet, throwing out anything that either a) was falling apart, b) was ugly or c) hadn’t been worn in the past year. And while I’m happy to say my cleaning was a success, I was particularly sad about throwing out a certain item of clothing: my favorite jeans.
Ah, my favorite jeans. I bought them from American Eagle four or five years ago (it’s been so long I can’t keep track), and from the moment I tried them on in the dressing room, I knew they’d be with me for a long, long time. I’ve never actually worn out a pair of jeans to the point where they were unwearable due to giant holes in the butt that showed things the general public should not be allowed to see, but I loved these jeans so much that I rarely took them off.
They’ve been with me through good times and bad, break ups and hook ups, first dates, anniversaries, three jobs, four apartments, hurricanes, Cougar games, snowball fights, Christmas lights, casual Fridays, thirsty Thursdays and a move from California to Texas. They’ve been under snow pants in Washington, over bathing suits in Rosarito and paired with sequins in Vegas. They’ve been more like a best friend than a pair of jeans, and putting them in the bag very nearly made me cry.
I’ll miss those jeans so much, and just so you can see how much fun I’ve had in them, I put together a Picasa album of me and my traveling pants. Check it out!