![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
listersgirlI am in love with my pants. I want to marry these pants and keep them will me always. We will grow old together and tell small children the story of how we met.
I bought these pants a couple of Christmases ago. I was desperate for pants, as usual, since none of the ones I had really fit any more. So I ended up buying two pairs of pants that I normally would never have even picked up: a pair of bright blue cords (the only blue in my entire wardrobe, but that was the sole colour they came in) and the pants I am wearing today.
They're bright orange with reflective piping down the sides (reflective coating which is slowly wearing away). There are random zippers all over the place which make clinking noises when I move. The material feels like some sort of unholy union of cotton and plastic and makes the "swoosh, swoosh" when I walk, rendering me incapable of being stealthy. I'm pretty sure they were intended to be clubkid wear, and therefore are about as unsuitable for me as is possible. They are among the ugliest pants I have ever seen.
But.
I haven't worn them in ages. They stopped fitting soon after I bought them, as is the way of pants in my world. I could never bring myself to give them away, though, because they are orange, and my life was made better by owning this pair of orange pants. Each time I cleaned out my closet I would struggle into the pants, barely manage to snap them up (because they are classy that way, and have a snap instead of the more mundane button), sigh, and put them back on the shelf, where they would sit being ugly but oh-so-beautiful.
This morning, worn out the struggle to find a pair of pants that aren't too big and therefore do not sit at my pubic bone with the crotch down around my knees (because I am neither a teenage girl nor a teenage boy), I recklessly pulled my snazzy orange pants off the shelf. And the love affair was rekindled. They now fit perfectly, sitting just low enough on the hips and being just long enough that they almost, but not quite, hit the ground when I wear shoes. I almost feel like I'm not even wearing pants, which is the mark of a good piece of clothing. Their shwooping is a happy sound, and when I look down, I see cheerful, sunny (and pen-marked) orange. I can see the reflective piping glowing in the darkness under my desk.
They are ugly and I love them.
I bought these pants a couple of Christmases ago. I was desperate for pants, as usual, since none of the ones I had really fit any more. So I ended up buying two pairs of pants that I normally would never have even picked up: a pair of bright blue cords (the only blue in my entire wardrobe, but that was the sole colour they came in) and the pants I am wearing today.
They're bright orange with reflective piping down the sides (reflective coating which is slowly wearing away). There are random zippers all over the place which make clinking noises when I move. The material feels like some sort of unholy union of cotton and plastic and makes the "swoosh, swoosh" when I walk, rendering me incapable of being stealthy. I'm pretty sure they were intended to be clubkid wear, and therefore are about as unsuitable for me as is possible. They are among the ugliest pants I have ever seen.
But.
I haven't worn them in ages. They stopped fitting soon after I bought them, as is the way of pants in my world. I could never bring myself to give them away, though, because they are orange, and my life was made better by owning this pair of orange pants. Each time I cleaned out my closet I would struggle into the pants, barely manage to snap them up (because they are classy that way, and have a snap instead of the more mundane button), sigh, and put them back on the shelf, where they would sit being ugly but oh-so-beautiful.
This morning, worn out the struggle to find a pair of pants that aren't too big and therefore do not sit at my pubic bone with the crotch down around my knees (because I am neither a teenage girl nor a teenage boy), I recklessly pulled my snazzy orange pants off the shelf. And the love affair was rekindled. They now fit perfectly, sitting just low enough on the hips and being just long enough that they almost, but not quite, hit the ground when I wear shoes. I almost feel like I'm not even wearing pants, which is the mark of a good piece of clothing. Their shwooping is a happy sound, and when I look down, I see cheerful, sunny (and pen-marked) orange. I can see the reflective piping glowing in the darkness under my desk.
They are ugly and I love them.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-09-29 11:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-29 01:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-29 11:39 am (UTC)Tee hee!
Date: 2003-09-30 09:54 am (UTC)Re: Tee hee!
Date: 2003-09-30 10:34 am (UTC)