What the hell, 2012. No really, who do you think you are? I guess that Zombie Bath Salt Apocalypse went to your head. And “Call Me Maybe.” Maybe. That happened. But meggings? You’re leaving 2013 with meggings?
What are meggings? Oh, you know, what a casual dude might buy at LululeMAN if he’s feeling too bloated for his skinny jeans. And if you think I’m joking, think again. I never joke about spandex. This is happening.
The implications of meggings stretch far beyond bunched boxer-lines and junk in the front. Meggings could disrupt the very foundation of gender dynamics as we know and love (meh?) them.
Now don’t get me wrong here. I LOVE men. I have binders full of men. But there used to be certain things that we had and they didn’t. Sure, this may be the same argument men had against women for things like college, equal pay and voting rights. But if we don’t draw the line somewhere, will it ever end? They’ve already taken no-polish pedicures. What’s next, sweater dresses?!
There’s nothing wrong with cross-gender fashion. Will I sample from the men’s department now and again? Sure. Do I like the way a billowy men’s shirt makes me feel so small and yet so strong? You bet. Have I been known to wear men’s cologne just to smell that sweet musk while I watch Tim Riggins drink beers in bed? Who hasn’t. And yet when given the opportunity to do the same with the bounty that womenswear has to offer, men have chosen to try the leggings? The bastard child of pants and tights? That which is capable of making even the most toned of thighs beg for a longer sweater to hide from the traitorous sheen of spandex?
You know what, go ahead, boys. It’s 2013. Run with them—you’ll find them to be quite comfortable for that. You’ve been doing pretty well with skinny jeans, so maybe it’ll work out for you. Who knows!
I’m reminded of a storybook I had as a child. Maybe you know it.
If You Give a Man Some Meggings…
They won’t have pockets, so he’ll need something to put his wallet in.
He won’t be used to carrying a bag, so it should have a nice, long strap.
He won’t want to call attention to the bag, so it should be small and sleek. Like a purse. Someone will call it a murse, even if he asks them not to.
It would be silly to carry a murse for just a wallet, so he’ll need other things to fill it with, like a hairbrush and some lip balm. Perhaps some hand lotion. Mascara. A nail file. Tampons.
Wearing meggings will make him notice things he never has, like how his left calf is slightly bigger than his right, but his meggings will be so comfortable that he’ll still want to wear them and only them.
He’ll love that he can eat as much as he wants in his meggings, so he’ll probably start to gain a few pounds here and there.
One day he’ll have to wash his meggings, and he’ll notice that none of his other pants fit.
He’ll feel insulted when his girlfriend says it’s not the meggings that make him look fat, and his girlfriend won’t understand what she did wrong. Or how she ended up dating this dude who wears meggings.
He will start to eye the men’s shirts and oversized blazers in his girlfriend’s closet. He’ll probably even try on a pair of her boyfriend jeans.
2013, folks! Meggings, murses and the deterioration—or reaffirmation—of traditional American gender roles.
(If you or a loved one has been affected by meggings, don’t wait. Call 1-800-TOO-TITE today.)
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