Last weekend, while getting into my car on a rainy Saturday night before going out to dinner, I felt an interesting sensation on the back of my right thigh. The sensation was...a slight breeze.
My favorite jeans had ripped straight across the back of my thigh, right up near my ass cheek.
As luck would have it, I was at a friends house who happened to have some spare jeans in my size. This, while lucky and an extremely kind gesture, did not ease my pain.
These jeans were the perfect length, wash, waist, lycra content and rear pocket size. Any woman will appreciate all of these attributes in one jean.
The seat of the jean seems a common place for them to give way. I suppose they lived a full and satisfying life, but that doesn't help that the Gap doesn't make them anymore and that they are lost and gone forever.
First the toilet seat, now this.
Heavy, heavy sigh.
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