"Butterfly" jeans

In the photo, you can barely see the side of the original butterfly below my right knee. He started it all... right after I ripped my favorite jeans on a nail at the edge of the stage in a theater in which I was rehearsing. These are my favorite jeans, without question. They have been for years, as is evidenced by the patches and threadbare nature of the pants. Oh yes, they're utilitarian patches. They cover holes and paint spills. Some are stitched to the reinforcements found on the inside. These jeans have seen some livin', and they're now held toghther like OZ, from behind the curtain. Side note: many thanks are due to my mom and to Carol W. for much mending, patching, and serging. I know that if I called my mother and was sobbing uncontrollably, she would be frightened at first. Might think that I had lost a limb or been snatched for ransom. However, when I finally blubblered out, "B... b... butterfly jeans," she would understand that they had finally met their overdue end, and that I was in the perfectly natural grieving process. It is to be noted that all of the patches, save one, are on the front. There is but one lone butterfly on my left rear pocket. It is solely aesthetic. One butt butterfly to "balance things out." Perhaps it's a good sign, a sign that my life has been lived with forward momentum. All of the snags and such are on the front. Sure, I've been caught standing still more than my fair share, but hopefully I haven't been backin' up.