Sweatpants: Victim of Our Shaming Culture
Think of the greatest invention of the roaring 20s. Radio? Nah. Assembly line? Hell to the no. Eskimo pie? Okay, we’re getting warmer. Not all heroes wear capes, right? Well, not all heroes are household names. Take Le Coq Sportif. Man. Inventor. Legend. Hero. The creator of sweatpants, who NO DOUBT is sitting his comfortable ass right hand to our good Lord in Heaven right now, as he should be — as he DESERVES to be.
The other night, as I was walking to pick up food on Ventura Boulevard, I caught glimpse of a snobby billboard that turned its nose up at me. “What’s this dude’s problem?” I thought. Rolling his eyes in my direction, he read: “Your sweatpants are calling and they want a burger. Postmate it.” Excuse the hell out of me? What does this even mean? I looked down, sweatpants banded around my ankles and synched to my waist. Was I supposed to feel ashamed? “Mind your goddamned business,” I spat back, knowing that sign was jealous of me and the sweatpants I was toting.
This is but one example of the shaming that comes with the rocking of sweatpants. Our culture is constantly trying to make this garment a guilty thing; as if letting your legs be draped in soft fabric and giving your tummy some breathing room is a BAD thing. Our homie, Sportif, literally invented sweatpants to outfit OLYMPIC ATHLETES, the elite amongst us, and I won’t stand by this shaming.
Sweatpants shaming has been going on for years. The late Karl Lagerfeld (an extremely problematic man) once said, “Sweatpants are a sign of defeat. You lost control of your life so you bought some sweatpants.” Do you know what a sign of defeat is? Squeezing my cellulite ridden thighs into jeans in the morning only to have them chafing by mid-afternoon. Pant suits. Pencil skirts. These are signs of defeat. Society has conditioned us to think that they’re not, but they are. Why should we have to fit a mold? And did old Chanel boy have any idea what sweatpants cost? Due to the gentrification of sweat-suits and the emergence of “athleisure”, sweatpants are no longer inexpensive. Some of these bad boys go well into the triple digits. I’m IN complete control of my life which is why I own Alo Yoga sweatpants that put me back 98 dollars AND THEY WERE WORTH EVERY PENNY.
“Your sweatpants are calling and they want a burger.” Where did my sweatpants get a phone? When did they grow a stomach? No, I’M calling and I want a burger. And what does it matter what I’m wearing? If you think I wouldn’t haul my Champion joggers accessorized with 8-year-old flip flops into a burger joint of the highest regard, you are out of your damn mind. There is no shame in my sweatpants game. And if you think I wouldn’t order Postmates in a damn prom dress, you have me messed up ten ways to Sunday.
Eating shouldn’t be coupled with guilt. Sweatpants shouldn’t be synonymous with defeat. Wear whatever you want and don’t care what anyone says. If you have the privilege to wear sweatpants AND eat a burger, you are living a blessed life. Don’t let anyone tell you different. I’m switching to Uber Eats. It’s what Le Coq Sportif would’ve wanted.
