Jeans’ Blues

Shit just got real in the Blues’ household.

A few days ago, while squatting to fish out from under the couch two rogue nuts trying to escape my TV-Drama binge session, it finally happened. The right leg of my favorite jeans ripped in that notorious spot on the thigh where I don’t have a gap. Where I have a cute meat bun who loves to rub against his twin brother on the other side and so rub rub rub, sooner than later, fabric disintegration will always set in.

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Normally (and by “normally” I mean before pregnancy and 14 months of motherhood), I would just be cross, toss the darn trousers away, wear any other pair from my small but juicy collection and go out for some well-deserved shopping. This time around though, the lesion in the jeans’ tissue proved to be much more than just a hole in a pair of old pants. It initiated a vortex of a butterfly effect with wings big as a cinereous vulture which sucked me into¬†a spiral of discouragement and gloom.

In order for you to grasp the scale of it, I have a confession to make: Continue reading