I bought these jeans for two-hundred bucks. It was years ago, back in the yuppie days. These boot-cut jeans had tasteful patina. Two holes with frayed ends placed appropriately down the leg signalling, “man, I work hard. How cute is my butt in these!?” As a person who did not make those holes naturally, I made marketing proud. Like the little lemming they want me to be, I bought them without looking at the price tag. And ho, husband did show no mercy with his jokes.
We’re here now. On the farm. My expensive jeans are still going strong. The designer chose very thick denim and strong seams. Blind faith. These seams shall support me. They won’t let go. My fight song. I wear them all the time doing hard farm and domestic labor. Other than the holes I paid for, I’ve not worn any new holes myself. Tough. “Premium denim,” claims the designer.
Yesterday, my jeans and I did an impromptu stress test.
We have a lot of animals on the farm. Most of them wanted and some, unwanted. Lumi, our bred-for-beauty Golden Retriever has been obsessed with catching a clever rat that lives in our cellar. He can hardly sleep, any noise and that dog shifts to go-mode. Yesterday afternoon, he had the beastie cornered. Barking, squeaking, mayhem. The other dogs cheered him on. He got the rat, at last!
I opened the door and then went over to shoo the dog out. But, he didn’t actually catch the rat. It was hiding behind some boxes in the corner. I moved the boxes for him. That’s when I felt it. That feeling you get when you think there is a rodent in your pants desperately trying to get out.
Screaming, I grabbed the rat lump in my pants to stop it from continuing up my leg. It wiggled and I could feel its mandible articulating. Dogs confused, me screaming, I planned my next move. Well, I suppose I better take my pants off. As I tried to keep the rodent in place while I unbuttoned my pants, its head popped out of my two-hundred dollar hole. Flailing rat arms. Jaw chompping away. Me crouched over, hobbling to the pack of dogs yelling “get the rat! Lumi! get it!” They insisted it was still running about the floor. I popped it out of my pants, rat fell, Lumi grabbed it and ran outside. Attack thwarted. No injuries. … except for one dead rat.
I’m a bit nervous wearing my old boot-cut beauties. They didn’t let me down, but I might opt for the “slim boot-cut” for the next few weeks.