Saturday, June 30, 2012

A New Pair of Jeans

I remember being a kid and getting my first pair of jeans. They were glorious. Sleek denim that fit like a glove, which I preceded to wear out within a week. I don't think you could pry them off of me if you tried. Then, they just became too worn out to even resist a washing. The second pair I remember had straps at the bottom, perhaps meant to hold me in--I'm not quite sure. Then came the designer brand, the labels, the status that only a pair of denim could bring. The first time I remember hearing about genes was in my sophomore biology class. The whole, "Punnet Square" theory, I have to admit, it was all very intriguing to a teenager without a care in the world; well, besides her jeans. Then all of a sudden you become a parent, and your jeans suddenly have elastic, and "Guess" takes on an entire new meaning. Guess the gender. Guess if they have 10 fingers and 10 toes. Guess what their name should be. Guess if their genes fit. And sometimes they fit like that glorious first pair and sometimes they just don't seem to fit at all, but the more you wear them, the better they mold to you, and you to them, and in a moment they become your favorite pair, straps and all to keep you grounded, patches to fix the holes, scribbles to mark your way, the anniversaries; because anyone who has been devastated knows what I am talking about. We are a little worn around the edges, but I guess I wouldn't change it for the world, because, sometimes, your world is like a well-worn pair of genes.

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