The human mind is a miraculous thing. When we need nutrients, our brain tells us we are hungry. When we need to recharge, it tells us to sleep. When we get hot, it tells us to sweat. Many years ago, someone’s mind even decided that we needed special pants to sweat in. Who was this man and how did he do it?
It is written in the Old Testament that God created the Earth in six days. Like any good American, God took the seventh day off to rest. Now, everyone knows that to get the full effect of relaxation, you need sweatpants. So, in preparation for his much needed rest, God must have finished the sixth day by making the most technologically advanced sweatpants that the world would ever see. They were grey and came with pockets and a drawstring. But how did these divine pants make their way to us lowly humans? My guess is that, like Prometheus stealing fire from the gods, some derelict angel snuck a pair down to Earth. Eventually, I found those sweats and I have never looked back.
When I come home after a long day, the first thing I do is put on my sweats. I wish I could ride a Jetson’s escalator that would just put them on me as I come through the door (yes, I am that lazy). Match them with a plain white T-shirt and you have my home uniform. It’s the perfect outfit; it’s warm, soft, elastic and it doesn’t matter if you spill on it. However, as much as I love my sweats, I always had one rule about wearing them: never outside the house (not even to go through a drive-thru).
I think my agoraphobic attitude toward sweats originally formed in my teens. Back then, we equated wearing sweats in public with giving up. At my high school, one guy tried to buck the system and wore sweats every day. We used to bet what color he would wear that day, which was more difficult than it sounds since he had every color of sweats that Cheetah made (yes, even turquoise). His peers labeled him a social outcast, but somehow, he still managed to find a girlfriend. Fortunately, he found the one girl at school who also was a fan of pants with an adjustable waist.
At the time, it was uncommon for women to wear sweats, but times and attitudes seem to have changed. Not only do women wear them now, but they were even given a more fashionable moniker: the Juicy suit. I know”¦ there are so many things wrong with that name. For one thing, sweat suit is an oxymoron. If we all wore suits made from sweats, we would be a seriously lazy bunch. Also, pants should never be juicy. If your pants become juicy, it’s time to put on new pants; and you certainly shouldn’t advertise just how juicy those pants are by writing it on your ass. But regardless of the name, Juicy managed to pull off the impossible: It made sweatpants the subject of public adoration.
It’s funny how all it really took to make sweatpants fashionable was a little “assvertising.” Who would have thought that writing on someone’s butt would make sweats cool? Apparently the people at Juicy deserve some credit for preventing the demise of sweatpants. They made sweats in girl-friendly colors, called them “couture” and the women swooned (whoever thought the words “sweats,” “couture,” and “swooned” would appear in the same sentence?). Before you knew it, fashion designers were in the sweats game. Like a giant drawstring around the wallets of America, sweatpants were tightening their grip on the public. In some sort of cosmic irony, sweat fever swept the country.
Some argued that these weren’t just sweatpants; that they were something much more. These sweats were a statement of defiance: I will not be uncomfortable anymore! I, for one, welcomed this message. I had spent years denying myself of the truth. The public really is ready for sweatpants! Please, Lord, forgive me for doubting your tailoring. If sweatpants are good enough for God, then dammit, they are good enough for me! Now if I could just get this damn drawstring back out of the waistline.
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