Pants

People generally wear pants on a day to day basis. I am no exception to this rule. I, however, am an exception to the commonly law of having your pants remained intact through out the day. I have destroyed more pants then I would care to admit.

I have somehow channeled the world of cartoon clichés and loose my pants obnoxiously often. (Anyone else thinking of Ron from Kim Possible?) I have had my pants rip so often and in such ways that they no longer count as pants. Let's begin the list.

1. On Christmas, in a room full of cousins, I flopped on the couch and my new pajama pants ripped across the crotch. It was ripped from waist band to the waist band on the other side. (That's what you get for shopping at Wal-mart.)

2. A day or so after the above mentioned incident, I was rock climbing with my cousin. While skidding down a rock, the seem got caught on a tiny notch and ripped about half the back off my pants. (More Wal-Mart crap)

3. While at my friends house for his birthday party, we were playing on his new wii. I was playing bowling or archery or something. I stood up for my turn and when swung for what ever game I was playing, my pants just obliterated. There was seriously nothing left of them other than the strip of fabric that was being held up by my belt.

4. I was at the neighbors house (the nieghbors for the ranch). I was playing with the two younger girls. They'd do something then ask me if I could do it. I'd show them that I could then they'd do something else. While I was doing one of these things, I flopped onto the ground and my plants split wide open at the crotch.

5. While entering the P.E. changing room the cuff of my pants got caught in the door and ripped all the way up the leg.

6. While coming back from Wyoming, I leapt into the truck and the leg of my pants ripped just perfectly that if I were to cut the leg entirely off where it ripped, I'd have a pair of short shorts.

7. While running water down the hill to the horses, I climbed a tree. The branch I stood on broke and I slid down the tree. One the nub of broken branch, I ripped through my pants and underwear and left a giant gash.

After about the second time, you stop caring who sees your knickers. It doesn't really matter any more. I've given up caring. Generally, I've found that other people care more than I do. It's spectacular how the flip out at the sight of someone's underwear, but a bathing suit (which generally has less material) is perfectly acceptable. The only difference is material.