Whenever I think about sweatpants, I think of this kid in my junior high that used to wear sweatpants every day pulled up pretty high, but then he’d pair it with something absurd. Like a fancy silk shirt. I am sure none of you will be surprised to hear that he had a mullet. And no girlfriend.
There are many reasons a woman wears sweatpants – whether she is in a relationship, single, married, or hooking down on the corner of Hollywood and Vine. But no situation is more understandable in the realm of sweatpants than in a marriage. In other words, you always know that one of a few different things is going on to cause the woman in a marriage to wear those sweatpants.
They are *technically* yoga pants, and she just doesn’t give a fuck
I remember the first time I saw yoga pants. I think it was at Old Navy. I remember thinking “oh, cute sweatpants.” Then I saw a sign that said “yoga pants” and I knew then that women somewhere in Old Navy’s corporate office had redefined sweatpants, and taken out that stupid, bunched bottom the Kmart ones always have to make them look more like workout clothes; thus realigning people’s image of a woman that wears them all over the place, and all the time.
It made total sense to me and still does, and that – quite frankly – is because I’m a lady who doesn’t give a fuck. Ladies should not give a fuck about what they wear to run errands, pick up the little shitters, and so on. Why? Who do you have to dress for anyway? Those disapproving old women in the check out line at the grocery store? The a-hole that honks at you because you aren’t walking across the parking lot driveway fast enough at the drugstore? Get over it, already – people are going to judge you whether you show up in a mink coat or a pair of sweatpants with a hole directly over your crack.
She’s under the weather (or would prefer you not touch her)
She could be sick. She could have diarrhea from the Thai food you let sit in your car for two hours, then lied about “forgetting” to pick up, disappearing to sit in your car down the street for about twenty minutes and coming back in with the rancid food. She could have a migraine or a sinus headache. She may have PMS. She may be ovulating. She might have her period. She may have just gotten off her period. She may be in a bad mood. She could have a cold. She could have drank too much before you got home from work. She could have drank too much with breakfast. She might have drank too much yesterday and is still hung over.
You get the point.
You don’t make her feel pretty
As if everything else is not already your fault, men, there are many times that a wife wears sweatpants and it is your fault. Exclusively.
Women need to feel pretty. Sure, they feel pretty when they get their hair done or a pedicure, but if a woman doesn’t feel pretty by way of her husband on a regular basis, she will oftentimes just stop trying. If she’s bathed and well-fed and taken care of, what’s the fucking difference between wearing nice clothes and a pair of sweatpants if she never hears those magical words “you look beautiful today?”
The real divider between whether or not a person is a man or a chicken shit coward that doesn’t deserve to have anyone in his life is someone that makes a woman feel pretty. I’m talking feel, not just hear it – through an ongoing combination of treating her like a woman, doing nice things for her for no reason at all, and complimenting her when compliments are most needed. After all, if there is no ostensive sights or sounds indicating her husband thinks she’s pretty, how would a woman ever know to feel that he does?
She has nothing else to wear
I’m starting to get close to this one. I have been going through this phase where all of my clothes are either (a) too big for me; or, (b) falling apart. It’s sort of absurd sometimes – day after day my most favorite articles of clothing fall to pieces. Sweaters tear holes. Shirts rip open. Zippers bust. And while I knit, I’m not too good with sewing so bit by bit my decade-old wardrobe has been dwindling to nothing.
But I haven’t replaced anything just yet for a number of reasons. I don’t like anything I’ve seen in the stores. I am worried about all the car repairs and rentals we’ve had to do lately. We’re throwing a huge surprise party for my father this March, which is starting to add up cost-wise. I need to save up for the retail therapy that will no doubt be needed when my husband blows off my 31st birthday like he did my 30th. I’m waiting until we get closer to our month-long vacation since I’ll have to buy a ton of hot weather clothes for that. And so on.
All of that said, no woman should be put into a position of having to wear sweatpants because she has nothing else to cover her ass for the day. Women should always have the option to look nice if they feel like they want to – for me it is a basic right of womanhood.
I’m pretty sure that there are a lot of nice guys out there taking notes at this point, so I am happy to announce that I’m stopping there. Pretty much any situation you can think of will fall under these four reasons.
As for me, I’m sure you are all wondering if this blog post means that I’ve been wearing sweatpants today, and just why. Well for one, I think I fall under all categories. I’ve mentioned that I am close to having nothing else to wear, and also that I don’t give a fuck. I also am pretty sure you all are well aware that my husband does not ever make me feel pretty. Ever. Like never. He has made it his mission in life to never actually say words that even allude to it. And I do have PMS.
Surely then you faithful blog followers will not be surprised to hear that I am. And as I sit here just now I have noticed that they are starting to develop two holes – one on the leg and one that will soon expose all of my lady parts.
And people wonder how I stayed single for so long…
Now, for the stupidest shit you’ve seen today…