The Ballad Of The Red Sweatpants

Earlier this week I was in saw a rather large woman walking around Super Target in pink pajamas (with cute little lambs and clouds) and huge, fuzzy bunny slippers. This got me to thinking about how casual is TOO casual.

As those who know me can attest, I am a believer in dressing as casual as the situation allows. But I have my limits, and jammies in a store is past mine. Of course, I once had much lower standards........

When I was in college, my fraternity "little sis" gave me a pair of red sweatpants. I loved those sweatpants and wore them everywhere. Let women worry about whether they can wear white shoes after labor day: my red sweats were 24 hours a day, 365 days a year comfort. In winter, I wore them long for warmth; In summer, I pulled them up over me knees and wore them as shorts. As time went on, they got worn to the point where Tracy pleaded with me to get rid of them. She got more insistent after we got married and continued to deteriorate.

When you get married, all men hang on to one thing that they will not budge on. That one friend, habit or routine that says "I will marry you, but I am still my own man". I took my stand over a beloved pair of red sweatpants. A nasty, stained, hole ridden, thread-bare, stretched out abomination. Tracy just had to live with it. Until.....

I would love to say my beloved red sweatpants died an honorable death, but I would be lying. I awoke one morning to find that our dog had eaten the crotch of my sweatpants. I don't mean chewed.......I mean EATEN. There was a 1 foot circular portion of the crotch totally gone. To me, it was murder. But Tracy and our dog Bear agreed, it was a mercy killing.