I finally threw them away today.
They're gone. Forever. They shall never be used again. Not as a rag. Not as a memory. Not ever.
Good bye pair of underwear I've had since the third grade.
It was time to lay you to rest. No longer were you able to hold yourself to my ass. No longer were you able to protect my special bits from the elements. No longer could you perform your function as panties.
The little red flowers that were your identity had long ago wilted away in the spin cycle. Your elastic bands had been stretched with the growth of my body and the holes that resulted from the 15 years of service were well deserved and respected.
Why did I hold onto you so long? What was it about you underwear-that-I've-had-since-the-third-grade that made you so very special? Perhaps these are questions I should pose to t-shirt-I've-kept-from-the-fifth-grade or manilla-envelope-that-holds-old-papers-from-middle-school.
I don't understand why all of you remain in my life. Am I expecting to start some sort of Archive? Do I really think that my paper "Are Biodegradable Plastic Bags Really Biodegradable?" that was written in 1991 will make a difference in today's world?
"Oh my God! She stapled giant biodegradable trash bags to her roof for 10 days! GENIUS! GENIUS! GENIUS! Thank God we found this paper."
So now I believe that it's time. It's time to say good-bye not only to you pair-of-underwear-that-I've-had-Since-The-Third-Grade... but also to your comrades. Adieu, flowered socks I bought from TJ MAxx when I was 13. So long, Easter Card from random summer camp girl that I don't remember. I'll be catching you on the flip side, coupon that will give me one free orange Julius that expired in 1994.
I really have no idea why we haven't said good-bye before.
Oh. Don't you worry pair of Chuck Taylors that are being held together by faith. You are not to worry. You are safe and will live for all eternity as soon as I can afford to have you bronzed.