(Forgive the repeat–I’m pooped and all I wanna do is drink wine and grill things and nap. I know you know what I’m talking about.)
The hunt for flattering gymwear is never-ending, and I know you know what I’m talking about.
Few women look good in those capri-length workout bottoms that are everywhere–they make a woman look like a peg leg pirate with stubby, wide thighs–and you have to be Gwen Stefani with her rock-hard abs to pull off track pants rolled down at the waist. No one, male or female, has ever looked good in elastic-waist sweats (think overstuffed sock puppet) and those of us who have had children generally cannot pull off the low-riding Juicy Couture-style terry bottoms without an excess of abdomen splooging over the top and sides. Don’t even get me started on the roll-waist yoga pants. Let’s just say they’re only look good on women without actual rolls at their waist.
Mind you, this is not the fault of our bodies. Our bodies are fine. It is due to lack of imagination or quite possibly sadism on the part of the designers of workout wear, who simply refuse to come up with workout bottoms that keep things smooth and tucked in, so you can go exercise without feeling like a lumbering buffalo on a treadmill.
Still, hope springs eternal, and the other day, it appeared that my faith and patience would be rewarded. I was in Filene’s Basement and rummaging through the racks. Suddenly, I spotted what appeared to be the perfect pair of black workout bottoms. My heart started to pound, not unlike when I spotted the man who is now my husband across the room at a friend’s wedding. I pulled the hanger off the rack to examine them. Simple, straight cut, highish waist to contain the wayward midriff, moisture wicking material….could these be the one? Finally, after all this time, just when I’d given up hope? Maybe, just maybe, I thought, tamping down any cynical instincts that bubbled up through my optimism. I’m going to try them on.
Quickly, as if they might evaporate in my arms, I ran to the dressing room, and tore off my clothes. Sliding my feet into the pants and then standing to hop them up over my butt, I had reason for optimism. The pants went over the sometime obstacle of my rear end without too much struggle, and hit me right at the waist, so there was no overhang. They were long enough so as not to flare out unflatteringly above my anklebone, and tight only where they should be. There were no rhinestones or sequins that would clog up my dryer’s lint filter, and the price was right. SOLD, I thought, and was already planning on swinging by the rack where I’d found them to see if there were any more in my size, so I could stock up. I slid them off and folded them, and prepared to put my own clothes back on.
And that’s when I saw it: The word CUTIE, in big turquoise felt block capital letters across the heinie. NOOOOOOOO!! I shouted in my mind. If I were in a sitcom (which at that moment I felt as if I was) the word would have had that drawn-out slow-mo distorted sound, as if I was being engulfed in abject horror (which it was!) How had I missed that? Why would anyone sew the word CUTIE on someone’s ass, even if the ass in question might be cute, which, let’s be honest, mine is not, and really never was?!? I’m not putting my ass down–it’s fine, but no one would ever sew the word FINE on the back of a pair of sweatpants, and if they did, I wouldn’t buy them. Would you? Besides, if one has a cute ass, one doesn’t need the word CUTIE on it to call attention to its cuteness, and if one doesn’t, any writing whatsoever on the butt calls attention to what is probably better left unremarked upon.
I was so annoyed I didn’t even put the sweatpants back on the hanger, and left without even the socks I’d gone to Filene’s for in the first place. I think I’m going to start working out in a skirt, like the orthodox Jewish women in my building do. They do it for the sake of modesty. I’ll be doing it as a protest.
Photo by Pescatello CC
September 4, 2010 at 10:03 am
Have you tried the pants at Lululemon? I could never find good workout pants either until I tried their groove capris and pants. I showed them to my sister in law who has had two kids, she tried them at the store and fell madly in love with them. They’re a bit pricey but so worth it. They hide my protruding lower abdomen and the saddle bags on my thighs! Miracle pants! They also have camel-toe prevention stuff at the crotch.
I promise I don’t work for them. I just found true love after years of searching.
September 4, 2010 at 12:52 pm
I like the photo above because this woman is not afraid to let the world see her cellulite. We should all be so brave. (Not really)
September 4, 2010 at 3:45 pm
The pants “fine” on the butt cracked me up. I think there are a lot of possibilites here. “Ok”, “not bad”, “average”, “good for my age”, “better than it was”. We can start a whole line of active wear for the woman who hates to brag.
September 5, 2010 at 4:17 am
I laugh, only because I have had the same problem finding workout clothes. What a bummer, to find the perfect pants, only to be disappointed by the ‘butt lable’. Who the hell designs these things?
September 7, 2010 at 11:09 am
Just found this blog and am cracking up. PS the chick in the pic doesn’t have cellulite, she has the horizontal lines, which are totally different and much easier to get rid of. Cellulite is like dots and impossible to get rid of .
September 7, 2010 at 1:08 pm
You know, a lot of women prefer those fold-over rollable yoga pants, but they get stretched out fast and don’t stay on…. I bought cute ones at http://www.fitgirlgear.com that were inexpensive and very cute. 🙂
September 8, 2010 at 1:56 am
I absolutely agree about lululemon’s groove pants — so flattering and stylish! I started wearing them in my thirties and bought a pair for my mom as well. Still my favorite workout pants.
September 12, 2010 at 6:46 am
How about pants with an Irish theme…
‘Good Craic!’
😉