It was a sad day today as I laid my beloved Old Navy cargo pants to rest. Khaki in color and the softest of cottons, these pants have really gotten me through some hard times. Five long years of ups and downs in weight, belts that have come and gone, a thousand trips through the washers and dryers of my life (including the industrial size/strength ones at the 24-hour laundromat); five years of solid, consistent support. So you can imagine how shocked I was when two days ago, as I was riding my bike back to my house, the pants (which are actually way too big for me now) just ripped, clear down the middle of the leg. Didn't even get caught on my bike or anything -- just died of natural causes. Let's face it, the pants just didn't have the will to fight anymore. And so I had to respect their wishes; I had to let them go.
Oh, how I cried! The last time I loved a pair of pants this much was 26 years ago, when I was 7 and carried on a lasting affair with a robust pair of Wrangler jeans. Come to think of it, what ever happened to those jeans? Beloved-Material-Item Disney World, perhaps? Probably hanging out with my complete collection of original metal Aladdin lunch-boxes-with-thermoses (Pink Panther, Ms. Pac Man, Star Wars, Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi). But I digress...
Farewell, Dear Cargos. You've served me well, and you will, of course, never be replaced.
We bow our heads for a moment to mark their passing...I had a dress like that when I was about 10. It was 2 pieces of material sewn together with holes for the head and arms. I lived in it! I think it was eventually banished.
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