In said post I described how my enlarging buttocks put enough pressure on my wallet to start a hole in the right rear pocket.

I then rejoiced after losing weight and being able to wear those pants again.

The jeans were then retired, because they were TOO big (again, time for celebration).

I’m happy to say they have now been put back into rotation (not because I put weight back on either).

When I bought Race St a couple of months ago I needed a pair of jeans to wear that I didn’t care about…demolition jeans if you will. I immediately thought of the skinny jeans, and I pulled them back out of the closet. They fit loose enough that it gives me the flexibility I need to hop in and out of windows and the various other random things I do while trying to fix this place up.

And even though I have a tool belt, sometimes it’s just easier to use that back pocket.

Every once in a while I catch myself thinking about what led me to this point. I see those frayed pieces of cotton hanging from the back pocket and I see a little bit of myself in them. When I bought those jeans I thought I was the king of the world. I had a great girlfriend I thought I was going to marry and no long term aspirations to stay in Cincinnati–I was just here for a reasonably good job while she finished school. I would have laughed in your face if you told me I would be 25 and single, gutting and remodeling my own house across the street from Findlay Market.

Yet here I am, May 28 2010, working on my first home. The jeans are still with me, but I’m not sure much about me is the same as it was when I purchased them. I’ve managed to break a couple more hearts since then–trust me I’m not bragging–I’ve certainly put my own corazón through the ringer a few times. I feel like I’ve been waiting years to get back to who I was, or as a great song I love quotes “To say this is the way that I used to be.” What I’m realizing is that I probably won’t ever be the same guy again, not totally. You take the good with the bad right? I’m no longer a fresh-out-of-college naive kid…I’m a 3-years-out-of-college naive adult(?). I wouldn’t say I’ve lost the fun loving spark that I had back then…it’s just that the spark fires a little differently these days.

All this should be expected right? I wasn’t the same at person 21 that I was at 18, so why would I be the same person at 25 that I was at 22?

I guess from 18 to 21, you feel like you are supposed to grow up, but by 22 I felt grown. I was out on my own, living and breathing the “real” world….except I forgot that it doesn’t stop there. No, the changes in your life just get bigger as the choices become more important. That’s a lesson I suspect I will be learning for the rest of my life.

I know one day those parts of my life that feel like the tattered strands of back pocket will make sense–they’ll show themselves to be there for a reason–like making space for a necessary tool to move forward with my life.

[Editor's Note: Despite the tone this takes at the end, I couldn't be happier with the way things are going for me right now. It's not all crystal clear, but I'm rolling with it.]

What feels like five lifetimes ago (but in reality was about 2 years ago) I was shopping with my (then) girlfriend when we made a stop by The Gap. Now understand that I am not a ‘shopper’ and I don’t go peruse stores looking for things to buy. If I need something I buy it, then I go home. For the most part she was the same way, so shopping was never the excruciating experience some boyfriends make it out to be. But I digress….

We popped in The Gap because I knew I could use a new pair of jeans. I, for the most part, wear baggier clothing, but I needed some jeans I could wear to the office and not look like I just came in from the weekend. She had been telling me that I needed some ‘skinny jeans’ for some time, so I decided to make the move. At that point I was wearing a size 36 waist, loose fit jeans. I pulled out the least fake-faded pair of Levi’s I could find–some straight cut, 35 waist Levi’s 1969′s. They fit snug, but they weren’t shrink wrapped to me, and I was told “They make your butt look cute.” Naturally I was sold.

Over the next few months that pair of jeans found themselves in regular/heavy rotation, getting the call for work and social events. All was going well, until I injured myself playing racquetball.

I had to call it quits on just about every physical activity I took part in. Waiting for my body to repair itself was an excruciatingly slow process. During that period I ended things with my girlfriend, and life in general felt dark. I noticed the skinny jeans were becoming tighter and tighter (no surprise there, I wasn’t working out). When my wallet wore through the right butt pocket because it had been stretched so much, I knew it was time to retire them.

My skinny jeans were tossed away into the bowels of my closet, and were long forgotten about.

Last January I was finally healed, and I started the slow process of getting back into physical activity. Using my Wii Fit to chart my progress, I began to get back into shape. Within a few months I was looking at a tumbling downward trend on the weight graph, and all of a sudden I was sticking extra holes in my belts so I could synch down my pants and keep them somewhere near my waistline.

It was at that moment I remembered the skinny jeans.

I dug through my closet and pulled them out, still sighing at the worn through right butt pocket. I was nervous about putting them on. Just looking at them was bringing back memories of that shopping trip, the girl I was with, and the person I was when I bought them. But, one leg at a time (someone tell me who puts pants on both legs at a time) I slid into them, and marveled at myself in the mirror. The last time I had worn them they were tight in the thighs and difficult to bend down and tie a shoe in; now they sat comfortably on my waist and barely hung off my skin. I–and my skinny jeans–were back.

The next few months brought my skinny jeans and I closer than ever before. Sure, I had to abandon the back pocket, but they were comfortable, and that hole was something people seem to pay hundreds of dollars for in designer jeans.

Then one day I found myself in a place I never thought I would be….the skinny jeans were too big. I stood in front of the mirror, this time in disbelief–it didn’t seem possible that I was about to put another hole in a belt to keep the skinny jeans up on my waist. I smiled as I thought about the journey I had been through with these pants, and what it meant to retire them again, but for the opposite reason.

It was a good feeling, like I had come back from two terrible places–injury and loneliness–only to return stronger than before.

I realized there was only one thing left to do, and that was go out and buy a new pair of skinny jeans. So that is exactly what I did–some straight cut, 33 waist Levi 1969′s–progress is a great thing.

So why should you own a pair of skinny jeans? Maybe you should buy a pair that you want to fit into, and that is your goal. Maybe you have someone for whom you want your butt to look cute.

Or maybe you just need a new pair of pants.