Bottoms Up

Binx or my new pants? who can tell

It all started in Chicago. It was a visit of firsts: Brent’s first time in the windy city, our first time eating Portillo’s, and the first time for the rip. My sisters and I all stayed w/ the bride the night before the wedding and Brent was in a separate hotel downtown. When we saw each other the next day he mentioned how his pajama pants were ruined, split entirely down the butt seam. I laughed at this visual, and laughed even harder when he showed me the pants; how does that even happen?

They were of course the only pair of pajamas he brought, so he had to tough it out in them for the remaining nights (luckily, he’s not a tighty whitey kind of guy or things might have gotten awkward in that hotel room w/ my sisters). He threw them out when we got home and that was that.

Until literally the next night I was brushing my teeth and absentmindedly feeling around my booty. I had been feeling a breeze all evening back there and wanted to get to the bottom of it #buttpuns My hand went right through to my underwear. The bottom was split beyond repair. They were my oldest pair of pajama pants, but not anything mangy. Maybe senior year of college, but most likely bought after graduation. So really, not old enough to be falling apart at the seams.

Brent made fun of me (thanks karma) until I begrudgingly threw them in the trash. It was almost Christmas and I figured I couldn’t be walking around w/ my butt peek-a-booing through my pants while my parents were visiting. I bought a $5 pair at Ocean State Job Lots (some New England family dollar-esque chain) and that was that.

Until literally the next morning when I bent over to refill Binxy’s water dish and felt the all-too-familiar sensation of a breeze where there shouldn’t be any breezes. I blamed myself for buying $5 Job Lots pajamas (I really should know better by now) and headed off to a store known for their quality, a store I count on: Wal-Mart. I steered clear of the pajama bottoms and bought some of those joggers pants that all the kids are wearing these days. Black and white, comfy and cozy, good to go. And at $7, you know they’re top of the line.

I was lounging around on the couch last week and went to snuggle the blanket securely around my butt when I felt it; the very first sign of a rip. I whipped my pants off then and there to examine more closely and I saw it; a tiny tear along the butt seam. Like, seriously, wtf is going on back there?

I buckled and bought some new pajama pants over the weekend. And by buckled I mean went the next rack over from the $5 pants and sprung for the $8 ones #baller

Last night I was getting ready for bed and excited to don my fleecy new dancing cupcakes pj’s. I put them on saw the cord was uneven and needed to be pulled out longer on one side. Before I could grab it, it disappeared into the waist of the pants. 

Am I the only one who this absolutely kills? I was complaining to Brent about it while trying to get all up there w/ my tweezers and he was like, just pull it out, who cares. I stepped back as if he’d slapped me. I care tremendously. Something about having a pair of pajama pants sans drawstring just isn’t right. And since it’s the middle of winter and I’m seriously living in pajama pants, I could just about cry right now. The struggle is real, guys.