Riding off into the sunset.

that's right - ponyrific!

It's a sad day.

To tell this story, I have to go back a bit. Several years ago, I can't remember exactly how many, but at least 4 or 5, I got a Christmas present from my sister in law Amelia. I opened the box and removed the contents with mixed emotions - hot pink, flannel pjs covered with horseshoes, ponies, cowgirls riding ponies, etc. Wow, they were...bright.

I wasn't quite sure what to make of them. They were so bright and I was so pastel. They were so pink and I was so blue. They were so ponified and I was so unponidfied.

But they were just pjs, I reasoned. I could wear pjs that weren't "me." I soon got rid of the top because it was literally trying to choke me to death in my sleep, but the pants...well, the pants and I started to develop a symbiotic relationship. 

Somehow those pants became my favorite pants.

I have literally been known to get dressed from head to waist and put my pony pants on to work during the day.

Like a toddler whose favorite blanket must go in the wash by direct order from the CDC, I threw an internal fit every time I had to wash those babies. As wash day rolled around I swapped them out for yoga pants or {gasp} jeans, but as soon as they came out of the dryer I put them back on. Having spent so little time folded, the pants seemed to just keep my shape.

I'm not sure who started calling them my pony pants, but the name stuck. I love those pony pants. Of all the lovely clothes I own, they are hands down my favorite thing. Nothing soothes me like my pony pants.

Apparently you cannot wear something everyday for 5 years and expect it to stay in pristine condition. The pony pants have developed a hole. Not a little hole, mind you, a giant shred in the threadbare fabric, right in the bum.

Should be fine, right, you can wear pants with a giant hole in the behind within the walls of your own home, right?

Oh yeah, except despite my promises to myself I can't seem to stay inside. It started by just taking out the trash or checking the mail. Then I justified a quick car pool run or two. Then a quick drive through here or there - In N Out, the bank...those guys aren't looking at your pants. Then in an emergency, I once had to run inside to the office at the elementary school. It truly was an emergency, but still that was a low moment.

So while yes, I could probably get away with holy pony pants in the house, I can't be trusted to stay in the house and the last thing I need it to run out of gas somewhere and have to walk home in my hot pink pony pants with my behind hanging out for all the world to see.

So, alas, it is a sad day. It is the day I am forced to retire my pony pants.

Goodbye little pony pants. I'm forever ponified and better for it.