When people look back thousands of years from now and read my blog, they’ll realize it was truly ahead of its time. Not only will hindsight show that I was responsible for getting 1 vs. 100 back on X-box Live (maybe), but they’ll also be astounded by my groundbreaking posts about food fantasies, discussions about what television characters taught me, tips for dealing when life becomes a horror movie, Twilightians, and now the greatest issue of them all: pants. Or as they like to say here in England, “trousers”, well, that is one thing I will never get behind with this country.
World, I’m not going to sit here, pantsless, in front of my computer pretending to like something that I actually hate. Because the truth is, though it is men that get a reputation for taking their pants off as soon as we ladies leave the room, I too am guilty of wanting to be free of the confines of pants.
For example, the other night, a friend asked me to come over and watch a movie.
“YES!” Was my initial reaction because I love friends and movies! But then I realized one very important thing. “Wait, I just realized two very important things. I’m not wearing pants and the room is spinning.”
“So I guess that’s a no.”
What you read above was not a typo, there were not really two things. Yes, I was a bit drunk, but the room wasn’t spinning, I was just kind of sleepy. The problem was that I simply did not want to put pants on, not even sweatpants. So as usual, to cover up how absurd I am, I invented a white lie that helped disguise the fact that I am a combination of incredibly lazy and incredibly anti-pants. Jeans are just freaking uncomfortable to wear in bed, and if I’m in my room, you better believe I am in my bed getting my hot chocolate and television homework on. So studious. I don’t have five papers coming up that are slowly killing me from the inside, shut up.
More importantly than homework, though, is the issue of sweatpants. God, I do love my sweatpants. How often I leave my flat directly corresponds with how often I’m wearing sweatpants, because I don’t wear sweatpants in public unless I’m going to the gym or it’s finals week and I’m going to be spending hours in the library. I don’t judge others for wearing sweatpants in public, but it’s a way of life I choose not to participate in. I feel really hoboerotic when I wear sweats into the real world, it’s a personal problem. I also feel that wearing double sweats is a crime against humanity. Again, a personal life decision. Don’t want to offend anyone. I know this is a deeply touchy subject.
I can’t explain it, but there is nothing more satisfying than coming back to my room after class or being out all day, and just breathing a sigh of relief as I take off my jeans, kickback, and start catching up on my shows. My room is often too cold to be completely devoid of pants, so sweatpants are a godsend. I sit here now, finally finishing this post in my favorite pair of sweats, marveling at the mobility I have to cross and recross my legs whenever I please.
I’m also not going to lie and pretend I really understand all this “Occupy Wall Street” stuff, but I’m assuming it means I can go there and basically protest anything I want. Right now I want to protest that there is not a day that celebrates the desire to not wear confining pants that, I feel, truly unites us all. So I declare, December 5th shall now be a day that celebrates the pantsless as well as the sweatpantsfull.
Inspiring anecdote to end the post: Back when I lived in Trenton, NJ, there was a pantsless man on PCP or crack or something or other. The police may have calmly told him to put on his pants and taken him away, but I’ll never forget his inspiring actions that day. He walked in public, pants free, and one day perhaps we all will too.