I realized today that I become emotionally attached to my clothes. I died a little inside today when I discovered that my favourite jeans EVER have a hole in them. That's right. A hole in my Sevens. My beautiful, wonderful, comfortable, ass-loving Sevens. Now I can see WHY there is a hole in them. I've worn them for about three times a week for the past two and a half years. They were finally perfectly molded to my ass and thighs and in the most awesome state of comfortableness ever. I may have to go and buy the exact same pair of jeans again. They are too wonderful to just give up. I should throw them in the garbage, but I just can't bring myself to do it. No lie. They are lying on my bed right now and I just don't have the heart to throw them out.

Makes me wonder if they just ripped because my ass loved them too much, or because my ass was too big.