One day, my dad saw a pair of babypink jeans in a window and had to have them. His friends, too, were getting baby pink, and even baby blue, jeans of their own.
My dad was determined to prove that everyone else's jeans were simply incompatible with his new pink jeans. He wore them all the time, until he wore me down.
The jeans started to tire with age and my dad grew disinterested.
At first, he attempted to hide my growing holes with shiny new patches. He believed that if the problem couldn't be seen, it must not be there.
But my threads grew thinner from the pressure of maintaining perfection.
My holes grew and the flimsy threads holding them in place snapped. A patch was no longer able to hide my frayed fabric. My seams simply lost their strength.
And i now lie peacefully in a withered donation box.
Because my dad never quite understood the concept of loyalty.
As his friends continued to get use out of their, now old, jeans, my dad went searching for new pants to occupy him.
New leather pants that were too tight, yet made him look better and didn't make messes and require a monthly support check.
I guess baby pink just wasn't meant to stay in style.
Gradually, my soft baby pink fabric is changing to a deep magenta and my floral patches are eroding from years of missed milestones.
Eventually, when my type of jeans come back into style, and i am released from my confines of the box shoved in the corner of the closet, i will be unrecognizable.
When my dad finally decides that i am worthy of coming back into style, or when he has run out of all other options of pants, i won't be the same youthful shade of pink.
All of my patches will be displayed to remind me of the bad parts of my youth, that made me who i am.
For they may not be the prettiest, shiniest, newest patches, but they will have been earned
Not merely given in attempt to hush my flaws.
When i have the privilege of being reworn, yet now called “retro”, i will have come to my senses.
Because all of those years i sat in the darkened closet provided me with plenty of time
To think.
And i have come to the conclusion, that when artys hipsters have exhausted their ideas for new innovations, and maintaining trends grows to be an idea of the past
I will have decided, that dads are out of style.