I hope you read the title and were horrified that you were going to spend the next 5 minutes reading about my pants. Because you totally are, but it’s about more than just sweatpants.
So I, like most young women, have a pair of what I call “those sweats.” The ones that seem like they were mass produced for a thousand people built exactly like you. They are the sweats you dream of in the 3rd hour of a boring meeting/class/formal event. And recently, they have been the sweats you are afraid to wash because they might unravel completely. They are the sweats that don’t keep you warm because they have holes in the knees and butt. They are the sweats that you have had to repeatedly cut pieces off the cuff because they are paper thin and disintegrating when they slide along the ground under your shoe. They are stretched out in odd places, warn out in darn near x-rated places, and the lettering has faded beyond recognition. They are the sweats you wear everyday because you just love them.
And, maybe most importantly, these sweats come from NDSU. They are my undergrad pants. And for weeks I have been complaining about their sorry state of disrepair. And today, I decided to do something about it. I bought new pants. U of M pants. When you buy sweatpants–hoping they will become “those sweats”– from an institution, that’s when you know you are in a seriously committed relationship.
And I came home, said sorry to my NDSU pants (but I haven’t thrown them out just yet. . . ) and put on the new pants. And they aren’t quite yet molded perfectly to me like the old ones. But they were soft and fuzzy. And they are warm. And they do say “PUBLIC HEALTH” all the way down the left leg.
They could work out all right, I suppose.