Time to Get My Needle Out...

You know how, once or twice in your life, you are wearing a pair of really worn-in pants; you bend over, hear a slight 'riiiiiip' and you stand up in horror as your hand whips to your behind to check out the damage? 99% of the time, there is no true rip. 

In the end, I think I have actually ripped ONE pair of pants, ever, in my life. And they were 10 years old.

This does not apply to Shawn.

The first time he came home and told me he ripped his jeans at work, I laughed and told him he worked too hard. 
The second time he came home with ripped jeans I was amazed.
The third time I started to sense a pattern.

And now, Shawn is left with literally no pants intact. Literally.
A closet full perfectly good jeans... Except they all have a rip in the crotch. 
And he refuses to buy new pants.
So now he walks around in jeans with rips in the butt and usually it's not so noticeable until he sat down on the couch yesterday and...

Something tells me he is gonna have to give in and actually buy himself another pair of pants.
Maybe two. And maybe one pair should be solely for non-work events so they can have a hope to survive intact for greater than 4 months. 

Who knew that Shawn's body was so toxic to pants?
His rump is quite conducive to splitting jeans.
Maybe I should take up mending so we can extend the life of these helpless, innocent pants. 

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