So, it’s Labor Day weekend. Officially the end of summer, the beginning of school and the death of fun. If you follow cliched fashion faux-pas, it’s also supposed to be your last opportunity to wear your super trendy and completely impractical white pants. Don’t even think about throwing them back on in the fall and assume no one will notice, you renegade! You’ll be the joke of family Thanksgiving dinner!

Although a silly unwritten rule, I appreciate that the post-Labor Day protocol gives me the opportunity to express disapproval for white pants on the whole. What are you doing walking out of the house with such stainable garments, actin’ like you’re not going to inhale a ranch-dipped slice of pizza or cup of coffee at some point? You trying to show off that you’re such a more graceful eater than me? Not going to encounter any overzealous puppies who just finished playing in a mud pile? What are you, some kind of heartless puppy hater?

How are you going without underwear in something that could easily show the repercussions of going without underwear? You hold a boldness that I can’t determine as confidence or obliviousness. Suffice it to say, it’ll be a relief to not worry about any encounters with blinding britches for a couple of seasons so I can focus my stresses on other things, like inappropriate Halloween costumes and sweaters long enough for my spaghetti arms.

If you own white pants and haven’t had to douse them in bleach after each wear, I commend you, you brave little showboat. I’ll just consider my pasty pale legs as my universal year-round white pants.

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