I think this is the first time I truly realized the terrible tricks the clothing industry plays on us mere humans. It was a painful lesson to learn, but learn it I did. The only shape recognized by the media was NOT my shape. I had lots of curves where I apparently shouldn't. Huge boobs, round hips, thick thighs. Even chunky calves. I didn't necessarily have a "size" but more of a "shape." Round.
I threw down the pants in utter disgust and snatched up the boxers. I was afraid to try them on, but I did. And they were fantastic. Loose where they needed to be. Just tight enough to stay up. These were built for me. I never returned the jeans. I was embarrassed and hurt and angry. I gave them to Goodwill - complete with tags still on them. But the boxers... oh, those boxers.
These shorts have been with me for a very long time. We've been through a lot together. Through all sorts of experiences. Both good and bad.. They're extremely worn and threadbare - and a little inappropriate, too, I guess. I so love them. But they're showing their age.
There are holes where there shouldn't be. Many, many holes. And the waistband is held on by more safety pins than sewn stiches. I've tried to sew them back together, but the fabric can't hold a stich any longer. It pretty much disintegrates. I'm incredibly sad.. Its like I'm having to put to sleep a part of myself. But I must do what must be done.
Farewell dear friends. You have served me well and I thank you for that. You have allowed me to be myself and not forced me into a shape that was not my own. You will never be forgotten. Godspeed.