I’m sitting here in my oldest, comfiest pair of yoga pants. Normally, I’d have showered by now and put on a pair of jeans. But I’m holding on to the last precious minutes with my comfy pants, because today is the last day I will wear them.

Four and a half years ago, my mom took me to Macy’s to find some clothes I could wear in the middle of my pregnancy. I wasn’t quite ready for maternity clothes, but my regular clothes weren’t comfortable anymore. As I looked for a roomy pair of khaki slacks to wear to work, she hit the clearance rack. And that is where she struck gold.

She found a pair of soft, stretchy black pants on sale for $11! As she handed them to me, she said, “Don’t look at the size. Just see if they fit.”

Thanks, Mom. Nothing like a flashback to shopping for prom dresses and gym shorts.

I’m not proud of the size that is barely visible on my pants’ worn label. (Nor am I proud of the fact that they basically fit the same as they did when I was very pregnant. *sigh*) But I do love these pants.

My black stretchy pants have seen me through pregnancy, a post-early-delivery baby shower, many days as the sleepless mom of a newborn, sporadic workouts, lazy afternoons, quick trips to the grocery store and many days as a stay-at-home mom. And they introduced me to the whole world of black stretchy pants, so I actually own three other pairs.

But no pants will ever take the place of my first pair.

[If you can’t see the video above, click here. It will explain the title of this post if nothing else.]

Sadly, though, my favorite stretchy pants have seen better days. A couple months ago, I noticed a small tear at the waistband. It didn’t take long for that small tear to turn into a large rip, and now, the waistband is barely attached to the rest of my pants.

It’s ridiculous. I know that. And when I wear them with my used-to-be bright purple college t-shirt that has more holes than fabric? Well, it’s a pitiful sight.

[In my defense, I only wear these things to bed. And since my husband works nights, it’s just me and the cats appreciating my fine fashion sense.]

I’ve been wondering if I could make something out of my pants. Since I love them so much, it’s hard to think about tossing them in the trash. And really, what can’t be re-purposed in the world of Pinterest?

So two days ago, I lovingly dropped my black stretchy pants into the laundry. I washed and dried them, and they made their way back to my bedroom where I thought they would stay until I found the courage to throw them away or actually found something I could make with their remains.

Last night, I put on another, not-quite-as-awesome pair of yoga pants before bed and then went to the bathroom.
Earlier in the evening, I’d had to rifle through the bathroom cabinet to find something and I’d left various tubes and bottles lying on the sink and shelf. Fed up with the mess, I grabbed a couple things that could be stored elsewhere and reorganized a few other items. Then my hand bumped into a tiny bottle of Strawberry Shortcake body spray and knocked it straight into the toilet.

The toilet that had not yet been flushed from a four-year-old’s late-night potty break.


For such a tiny bottle, it really did make an impact. Pee splashed all over my not-perfect but not-holey yoga pants. I took them off (and tossed them out to the washing machine), and grabbed my favorite pair one last time.

And so, this morning, I’m reluctant to get ready for the day. Because today that means saying goodbye to an old friend. I’ve even considered working out to prolong matters.

I suppose I don’t have to throw them away or cut them up to make potholders (or whatever I find on Pinterest) right away. Maybe my favorite stretchy pants can just sit in my drawer for a little bit longer.

Have you ever been ridiculously emotionally attached to an item of clothing? Have you ever kept clothes for sentimental reasons? Do you like to wear yoga pants?

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