Times & Seasons: A Time to Let Go

I’m a murderer, but not of human beings.

When I discover something new, I consume it till there’s nothing left of it but its bones…and even those, I crush to powder. I discover a meal I like and I eat it every day till my stomach and taste buds revolt. I discover a song and I listen to it day in, day out, till the sound of the opening bars induces a migraine. Only then is it time to move on to another.

I once found the perfect pair of jeans; my favourite pair of all time. I forsook all others and committed to a monogamous relationship with this flared indigo beauty. I wore it. And wore it. And wore it till the colour in the region between my thighs began to fade. After the fading, came the thinning, and then the holes. Whenever I sat down in public, I had to keep my thighs firmly shut. That should have told me it was time to let go.

Never. MEE and you for life baby!

At the time I was a bit of a retro babe so I decided the holes were all part of being retro chic. I dug out a razor blade and tore holes in the knee regions.

If we’re going to do ripped, let’s rip it to the max!

And so I roamed the streets of Colchester in this pair of jeans fit only for the mentally inept. Truth be told, I loved it. I had one of those long metal key chains and I’d attach one end to a fore pocket and the other to a rear pocket. Throw in my yellow ‘Chucks’ and I felt too cool for school.

One day I found myself in a room full of my friends, playing silly games…as you do when you are students with no work and plenty of time. Caught up in the fun and games, I forgot to sit in a manner compatible with my battered jeans. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted one of my male friends laughing his head off. At first we all ignored him but after a while, it got a little weird.

‘Dude, what’s cracking you up?’ someone asked him.

Still laughing, he pointed at me and said, ‘Mehn MEE, how far with these your jeans?!’

I looked down and lo and behold, a new hole had appeared in the erm, central region. I’d say a good 30% of my underwear was on show.

I was still trying to figure out how to deal with the embarrassment when someone squealed, ‘ooh, I have that pant too!’

‘Shut up jo, who asked you?!?!’

As soon as I snapped, the entire room erupted in laughter.

It was either laugh or die on the spot. I chose laughter.

I wish I could tell you I never wore that pair of jeans again but…

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3 comments

  1. Why does this sound like my situation as well , Oh boy ! you get your needle and thread skills in session and patch together them holes and rock the life out of it , well thats what i do for all my ride and die jeans LOL!!!

    Like

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