Typically narcissistic blogging.

To My Blue Polar Bear Pajama Pants

Dear Blue Polar Bear Pajama Pants,

I love you. I mean, I really love you. I have for a long time.

You were just hanging there in a Gap store over ten years ago, and a woman in whom I was interested pulled you right off the hanger and said, “You need to have these.” I knew immediately she was right. Seriously, from the moment I saw you, it was obvious we were meant to be together.

You’ve been my favorite sick day pajama pants, my favorite cuddle day pajama pants, my favorite pajama pants to put on the morning after bringing somebody home because you inevitably get a giggle from the women who only ever see me in jeans. Apparently I don’t strike them as as the Blue Polar Bear Pajama Pants type.

You are comfortable, soft, faded from your original dark blue background after years of wearing and washing. You have polar bears on you. Let me repeat that. You have polar bears on you. Light blue ones. I love them.

But, Blue Polar Bear Pajama Pants, you are falling apart. You have virtually no structural integrity left. You tear when I so much as look at you funny, and that’s making me so very, very sad. You are so worn that I wonder if even sewing you back together would work (and by that I mean, having somebody who knows what they are doing sew you back together; the only thing I can do well with a needle and thread is stab myself with the needle).

So I am thinking, maybe it’s time to retire you. Maybe it’s time to put you in the back of my bottom dresser drawer (the one with the rest of my lesser pajama pants), and stop hoping I can get one more comfy night without you falling right off of me.

Maybe.

Maybe I’m not ready yet, Blue Polar Bear Pajama Pants. But I have to start coming to terms, somehow. In the mean time, hang on. I mean, literally. I wear you where other people can see me.

Love,

Whiskeypants

6 responses

  1. This is heart rending, Whiskeypants. I sense a crossroads in your whole lower-half-wear world. The internet is a wonderful thing and maybe, just maybe, out there somewhere in the cyberworld is a neat stack of lookalike polar bear pyjama pants, waiting. Just waiting for the moment you google them and put them in a cart.

    The joy of a polar bear pants renaissance: a ten-year pants eternity stretching endlessly before you: I truly hope you find what you seek.

    November 18, 2011 at 9:53 am

    • I’m not ready to let go and start looking, not yet. But it’s nice to know that somebody understands. *heavysigh*

      November 18, 2011 at 9:58 am

  2. R.A.

    Ha! I’ve been looking for another pair of those for my wife and found your blog. She loves her pair as well. Did find a red pair at GAP.com, but they’re sold out.

    November 19, 2011 at 1:20 pm

    • So I’m not the only one! Let me know if you find some…

      November 19, 2011 at 1:42 pm

  3. Jeffery

    I truly know what your going through. Not the same pair of Pajamas but the same story. MY love was my Superman pajama pants that are going on about 10 years… how they will be missed. I also could not bring myself to throw them away. They sit in the back of my drawer with a knee hole and an unflattering crotch hole. We should start a national Pajama Pant Cemetery. I believe they all deserve a proper burial.

    November 29, 2011 at 3:56 am

    • It would be a great way to honor our retired pajama pants. Great idea. :)

      November 29, 2011 at 8:46 am

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