Athletic apparel catalog models must die

It’s that time of year when Troy and I start planning the vacations we will take. On the agenda this year, kayaking in Congaree National Park  in South Carolina, possibly a quick trip to kayak in the 10,000 Islands in late March, a trip to Yosemite in June for a week to hike (and die) and then Zion National Park in September where I am determined to hike the Subway before I keel over and hang up my hiking shoes. I am trying to talk Troy into kayaking the Na Pali coast in Kauai in July but Troy is not jazzed about it. With all these impending trips, it’s time to start ordering outdoor clothes for the season.

If you ever want to feel totally inadequate, a quick scan through the Athleta catalog should do it. Exhibit A:

Seriously? Who is this chick and why is she trying to scratch the back of her head with the sole of her foot?

Let’s look at this. This woman has an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. I hate her and I don’t even know her. She’s probably really sweet. I tried this pose tonight and all I got for my trouble is a badly pulled hamstring and a bruise from where I fell over and hit the dining table. Fortunately, Troy had already gone to bed when I tried this.

Sure, she can do this, but if she had a 40DD chest, it would add a little challenge.

This woman is perky even upside down. That’s unfair to the rest of us. Someone needs to hold her hostage and force-feed her twinkies. I started to try this one but was greeted by four very curious dogs who are not helpful yoga partners. I gave up and poured a martini. Fuck it. I’m wearing a rash guard and khaki shorts this year.

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Dressing for the holidays: sexpantz

I loathe clothing that  requires more than spandex to shape it and hold it up on  my body. I also loathe shopping. I have in the past considered wearing a muumuu since the only thing it actually touches on the body is the shoulders and because a muumuu is basically a trashbag with armholes, that extra cookie I ate for lunch isn’t going to show. However, the only people allowed by law to wear a muumuu are anyone over 300 pounds, Italian grandmothers over the age of 60, the Olsen twins and Divine (God rest his soul).  It is December. I have parties to attend. I need clothes. Dressy clothes.  Desperation is a powerful motivator that can force me to shop.

There are three relevant rules of fashion in my world in this instance:

1. Yoga pants are awesomely comfortable.

2. Holiday parties require dressy clothing (translation: nothing grey heather or with the word “Hanes” on the label).

3. Velvet makes anything look Christmas-y.

Taken together, the solution is obvious: velvet yoga pants. Here is what I found online:

Nothing says fun office party outfit like hot pink crotchless velvet yoga pants.

Yes, someone sells something called “sexpantz”.  You can buy various kinds of sexpantz: catpantz, hotpantz and dancepantz. I am particularly fond of the leopard print catpantz modeled by a man. If you look, don’t say you weren’t warned.

This site begs the question: who would buy these things? Apparently, according to the metatags, members of the LGBT world and Burning Man revelers.  

No self-respecting gay would be caught dead in stretch velvet assless chaps.

While I have never attended Burning Man as I am now way too old for that kind of chemical joy, I am reasonably confident based on vague memories of misdeeds from the first Lollapalooza, that these pants would not sell well to that crowd.  They’ll be naked and covered in mud and velvet really does not hold up well in mud.  As for the LGBT world, my gay friends would rather send a Christmas card to Fred Phelps than wear velvet assless chaps. Leather, sure, but cheap stretch velvet?  The horror.

I guess I now understand ass waxing. If your ass is on display, you’ll need to make a good impression because first impressions matter.