Goodbye pants

Once upon a time, I needed some new pants. To this end, I went to thrift shopping in San Leandro. A good hour or two yielded but one find. It was worth it, though: a handsome pair of Levi’s "Action Slacks" for $1.50. They were baggy, sure, but I loved them all the same. Of course, a few years of loving wear can take quite a toll on a pair of pants. My poor man’s hem job (umm, staples) didn’t make the cut, and before long, the ends of the legs had been worn off by my heels. Holes began to form in the pockets and, most recently, the crotch. Then, the other day in the school bathroom, the little handle thing on the zipper came off.

It’s not something I had ever considered, but the handle is a critical element of a zipper. Thankfully, you can still zip up without it, but unzipping is quite troublesome. So troublesome, in fact, that I have condemned these pants! They are officially retired. Maybe this doesn’t strike you as particularly interesting, but believe me, it’s no small feat to get me to part with a piece of clothing I wear regularly.

I suppose it’s all for the best, since it’s more or less an utter travesty for a strapping young man like myself to wear such baggy pants. I’d replace them with some snugly fitting designer jeans, if I had the money to throw around. The obvious course of action is to sell my body for some wardrobe-enhancing funds, but it’s kind of a catch 30-32 since it’s so hard to sell my body without the tight pants. Okay, that’s just an assumption, but still, it’s dissuaded me from a life of prostitution, so doesn’t that excuse a little unscientific assuming?