I had a super eventful day on Sunday. My favorite hockey team, the Boston Bruins, had a fan event in Providence where there would be special merchandise, contests, and meet-and-greets. Last year, I attended the event with my boyfriend. This year, however, he is transitioning between jobs and had to work, so I had to go by myself. I’ll go into more detail about the event in a later post, but the thing I want to talk about today is my pants.
This week, I learned that sometimes it’s not really about the pants.
Yes, my pants. I have a favorite pair of “summer pants,” somewhere between Bermuda shorts and capris, that I bought at Old Navy ages ago. I don’t know exactly how long I’ve had them- it’s been at least five years because I had them the last time I went to Atlanta and I wore them on my first date with my boyfriend. They’re a perfect size, the perfect cut, and the perfect material for me, so I wear them constantly while the weather is warm.
Sunday evening, while I was watching my boyfriend play Detroit: Become Human and decompressing from a tiring social experience, I noticed that something was wrong. My thighs had finally rubbed their way through my friendly, comfortable summer pants and created holes. At that point, I had a pang of anxiety: what was I going to do? What was I going to wear? Could I fix them? Would I have to replace them?
The more I thought about the pants, the more I realized that it wasn’t necessarily about the pants, but rather about the resistance to change. I’ve always been very rigid about change, maybe that’s the Autistic part of me showing, maybe that’s just my personality, but things that are different are scary. I’ve always preferred the status quo, whether that is taking the same route to work every day or not reaching out and putting myself out there in the world. The status quo is comfortable, and if I’m comfortable, why change? If these pants are so great, why wear anything else?
Sometimes, you need to change your pants. Yes, this is a metaphor. Change is scary, I know, but sometimes you need to get out of your comfort zone and make changes. A lot of the time, this is voluntary, but occasionally the universe throws you a loop and you’re forced to make a change. For me, this was a breakthrough, both literally (with my thighs literally breaking through the fabric) and metaphorically (with my impetus to create this blog and tell my story).
I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do with my pants, but I’m confident that I’ll come to a decision that makes me feel good in the long run.