You know what I don’t like? Being hot. You know what else I don’t find all that great? Being uncomfortable. Wanna know another thing that annoys me? Fitting rooms. That being said, I think you can probably extrapolate from the provided information my feelings toward pants: I am not a fan.
Don’t get me wrong, I understand the need for pants. I certainly don’t want to live in a world where every Tom, Dick and Robby is allowed to walk blindly into the Jimmy John’s drive through staring at their cell phone instead of looking where they are going while doing their best Porky Pig impression. I know that the clothing industry is a valuable part of our world’s infrastructure. Just imagine a world without fashion models or sweatshops or Old Navy commercials would be like. Why, I don’t think anyone would want to experience that waking nightmare.
So yes, I do understand that most people, myself included, should never subject strangers or even unwitting loved ones to the sight of their favorite fully exposed pair of Garfield and Friends underoos, unless ordered to at gunpoint by a bank robber. (No need to be a hero.) That being said, there is no reason in the world I should have to wear pants in the privacy of my own home.
To me, the act of cramming my powerful gymnast-like thighs into even the most comfortable pair of jeans feels more like squeezing a couple of hairy balloon animal giraffes into a wet pair of infant-sized ankel socks. Good at keeping me warm on a chilly day? Sure. Handy for making sure I don’t get arrested for indecent exposure? You betcha. Something I would willingly subject myself to if social norms and near crippling self-image issues didn’t demand it? Not a chance.
That being said, the next time you knock on my door without extending me the courtesy of some type of advanced warning, yeah you are just going to have to hold on for a second while I get some pants on.