The other day, I decided to wear my favorite pair of jeans out to some place that is completely irrelevant. However, upon removing them from my overstuffed drawer designated for pants, I noticed that they boasted a not-so-unnoticeable hole in a quite noticeable place where a pair of pants simply cannot have a hole in order for them to still be wearable in public.
No worries, right? They’re just a pair of jeans, easily replaceable, right? WRONG.
This specific pair of jeans happened to have been passed down to me by my great, great, great, great- friend, Nicole. They didn’t fit her, so they became mine. I practically lived in those jeans. They became a part of me, a part of my soul. So, when they were still wearable, I decided to go to their store of origin, American Eagle Outfitters, to get myself a second pair just in case they didn’t last forever. So I walk into the store (wearing the jeans) and look around, trying to locate an identical pair. I could find none. Nearly panicking, I caught the attention of the nearest sales associate.
“Excuse me,” I said, “Do you know where I can find a pair of jeans like these?” I gestured to my pants, as if this employee had memorized exactly how each pair of pants the store sold looked on different people.
“Oh, what are they called?” the girl replied, because she obviously hadn’t memorized exactly how each pair of pants the store sold looked on different people.
I told her the name, which was “Stretch Skinny Flare.”
“I am so sorry,” she said with sympathy, “but American Eagle has discontinued production of that type of jeans.”
It was then I learned that the world hated me. And it wasn’t based solely on this event; this was simply the final straw that broke the camel’s back (Look at me, being a big shot. I used two idioms at the same time.) You see, throughout my life, whenever I truly adore some type of product, it is viciously removed from the market and from existence altogether.
Exhibit A: Hot and Spicy Chex Mix. From the tender age of eight, I had been addicted to the hot and spicy flavors of Hot and Spicy Chex Mix, and it had become a staple in my evening routine to have a bowl at around eight o’clock… until General Mills pulled the plug. However, they had the nerve to re-release the flavor, but it tasted completely different. Ironically, when I finally got used to the new flavor, they stopped selling it in stores. Now I can only find it in school vending machines, so I get my daily Chex Mix fix during lunch.
Exhibit B: Hearty Chicken Cup of Soup. I wouldn’t have survived the summer before my freshman year without this disgustingly unhealthy excuse for real food. I literally ate this daily, although I could feel my arteries clogging with every sodium saturated sip. I was in shock when this went out of production, going as far as to write an ode to its departure, but now that I’m looking back it may have been for the better.
Exhibit C: My poor jeans, of course.
I don’t know how I will go on knowing that the world hates me, but I think I’ll manage. Hopefully I’ll never like you.
No worries, right? They’re just a pair of jeans, easily replaceable, right? WRONG.
This specific pair of jeans happened to have been passed down to me by my great, great, great, great- friend, Nicole. They didn’t fit her, so they became mine. I practically lived in those jeans. They became a part of me, a part of my soul. So, when they were still wearable, I decided to go to their store of origin, American Eagle Outfitters, to get myself a second pair just in case they didn’t last forever. So I walk into the store (wearing the jeans) and look around, trying to locate an identical pair. I could find none. Nearly panicking, I caught the attention of the nearest sales associate.
“Excuse me,” I said, “Do you know where I can find a pair of jeans like these?” I gestured to my pants, as if this employee had memorized exactly how each pair of pants the store sold looked on different people.
“Oh, what are they called?” the girl replied, because she obviously hadn’t memorized exactly how each pair of pants the store sold looked on different people.
I told her the name, which was “Stretch Skinny Flare.”
“I am so sorry,” she said with sympathy, “but American Eagle has discontinued production of that type of jeans.”
It was then I learned that the world hated me. And it wasn’t based solely on this event; this was simply the final straw that broke the camel’s back (Look at me, being a big shot. I used two idioms at the same time.) You see, throughout my life, whenever I truly adore some type of product, it is viciously removed from the market and from existence altogether.
Exhibit A: Hot and Spicy Chex Mix. From the tender age of eight, I had been addicted to the hot and spicy flavors of Hot and Spicy Chex Mix, and it had become a staple in my evening routine to have a bowl at around eight o’clock… until General Mills pulled the plug. However, they had the nerve to re-release the flavor, but it tasted completely different. Ironically, when I finally got used to the new flavor, they stopped selling it in stores. Now I can only find it in school vending machines, so I get my daily Chex Mix fix during lunch.
Exhibit B: Hearty Chicken Cup of Soup. I wouldn’t have survived the summer before my freshman year without this disgustingly unhealthy excuse for real food. I literally ate this daily, although I could feel my arteries clogging with every sodium saturated sip. I was in shock when this went out of production, going as far as to write an ode to its departure, but now that I’m looking back it may have been for the better.
Exhibit C: My poor jeans, of course.
I don’t know how I will go on knowing that the world hates me, but I think I’ll manage. Hopefully I’ll never like you.
Yay for jeans.
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