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 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.