…and then my pants ripped.

…and then my pants ripped.

I was doing my morning workout with one of my besties, when the topic of “stretch” in jeans came up.  We went on and on about the comfort and the shaping and all the other good things stretch material offers us.  Then, we had to face a bit of the reality…it was VERY forgiving.  As we discussed the coming of summer and the inevitable shorts and swimsuit season, we cursed our damn stretch jeans.  In a moment of real truth, we shared that each of us had only one pair of pants that were stretch free.  Hers a white pair (think Jimmy Fallon and tight pants skit), and mine a pair of crop jeans.  My very favorite in the whole wide world.

Feeling inspired by our workout, I decided to drag out those pants.  Time to face the reality.  It’s safe to say even on a good day these are tight, but fresh out of the dryer, a near catastrophe.  So, I pulled them on, wiggled and wiggled until my bum fell into place.  Then, I called in the heavy artillery – my husband.  Now, I’m not joking here, I was jumping up and down and asked him to give me a hoist (talk about denial).  So, he grabbed my belt-loops and lifted me up not once, but multiple times. Then I heard it, the dreaded riiiiiiiip sound.  Uh Oh.  I closed my eyes…oh no he didn’t!  Upon inspection, I found it was just a belt loop hole, but it was the end of an era.  The rip meant a couple things.  First, I would have to get out the sewing kit (if you know me well, you know this is not a strong suit).  Second, my bum just outgrew my beloved pants.

my pants
my pants

So, I’m left to ponder my situation.  I can either feel fat and have a pity party or consider the idea that my epic butt muscles have grown and that’s the source of the rip.  I choose the latter.  Perhaps it’s me leaning on the advice of my uncle Merle.  Well, it’s more his personal creed than advice, but I’m using it for this situation.  He says, “Take everything as a compliment, even possible insults, as not doing so can be counterproductive.”   Well said, uncle Merle, well said.  So instead of allowing that silly little tear be the insult that ruined my day, I am thanking my lucky stars for more muscle in my bum.

Next time your pants rip, you can choose to feel sorry for yourself or you can face the reality of the situation in a different way.   I’m not saying to ignore the reality – that’s just silly.  I’m just saying see the reality and find a way to make it productive.  Perhaps my bum got bigger from too much whip cream (that is a very serious possibility), or maybe it’s from squatting.  Either way, I’m going keep on squatting:)

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