I tell you what...this marriage gig is hard work. Between arguing over holidays to having shouting matches over the Sweatpants of Depression, I am plumb worn out.
On Saturday The Dude wanted to go out and run some errands. As I cannot be bothered to get up before 10.30am on the weekends, I took my sweet time (ie 1 1/2 hours) to get from being huddled under my duvet with my 4 fluffy pillows to putting one leg, then another into THE sweatpants. I wasn't really depressed, just a bit down. Initially, I did not put them on as representative of any malaise, so when they were first put on we shall call them the Sweatpants of Apathy. Just so you know, these are not dingy, grey, $10 Wal-Mart sweatpants, these beauts are lovely sky blue Nike yoga-ey pants with flared bottoms. These aren't your mother's Sweatpants of Depression darlin'.
Upon exiting the bedroom, quite proud of myself for emerging from my typical Saturday outfit of The Dude's pyjama bottoms and 10 year old t-shirt with holes, he says to me, "You're not wearing that out, are you?" You know, because shopping for cushions to go on the new sofa requires a ballgown and friggin' tiara. I asked him what was wrong with them and his words were, "Umm...but they are sweatpants...and you'll probably be wearing them all weekend. It looks a bit sloppy." Huh? Uh, did he just...I think he did. I asked him why wearing them all weekend would make them unwearable at that moment since they were fresh out of the dryer, to which he had no answer. Clearly this boy has some lessons to learn. When a woman wants to wear the Sweatpants of Apathy/Depression, you don't tell her she looks like shit you say, "Darling, wear whatever you want. You're beautiful regardless of what graces your body."
The way I look at it, he was lucky I even wanted to leave the flat in the first place. Granted, after his anti-Sweatpants of Apathy tirade, I decided to stay in. The Sweatpants of Apathy gave way to the Sweatpants of Depression and I wore them with pride, though rather morose pride. I lounged all day watching Extreme Makeover Home Edition, crying, eating half a tub of Ben and Jerry's and shouted at The Dude to get out of the house because he was pissing me off...but hey....This is what I'm made of. To think this is me without drugs. Ha! I can tell you one thing. Once IVF starts and I'm even more of a raging bitch, I will be able to rock those sweatpants like nobody's business for days on end. I'm thinking marathons of Pimp My Ride, constant viewing of the melodrama on tap that is found on the Hallmark Channel, and the consumption of rather a lot of junk food. Ahh...it almost makes one want to put the sweatpants on now...
14 comments:
I love the Sweatpants of Apathy/Depression. The Dude should know that the second you put them on, you are automatically gorgeous and he should NOT mess with you.
...and frankly, sky blue with yoga-ey flared bottoms sounds totally glam in my place. I'd pair them with a tiara in a heartbeat.
Girl...mere cushions are nowhere near good enough for those sweatpants.
Oh my goodness! I thought I was the only one who owned those :)
Julie "tales from the stirrups"
Oh lordy, that was hilarious! The sweatpants of apathy, LOL! I think I have a few pairs of those myself.
Damn. Those are some damn fancy sweatpants. The Dude should be happy - nay - PROUD to be out at Ye Olde' Cushion Shoppe with you in those. I actually also have some sky blue apathy sweatpants (Costco special two months ago) but I only save them for special occasions.
He should be THANKFUL you were wearing nice sweatpants. You should see my Sweatpants Of Depression. They are nasty.
I'm jealous of your sky blue sweatpants because they're multi-functional and go from apathy to depression in no time flat. I want a pair now.
The Dude should've read the manual and immediately known that when the sweatpants of apathy/depression are on the compliments should start rolling off the tongue. The only corrective action for his blunder is to make him re-read the manual and then you must re-test.
Sweatpants of Depression are sacred! Let no man put asunder a woman and her sweatpants.
Oh. No. He. DIDN'T!!
Girl, I would have thrown the effing sofa at him for that little gem.
Wear those sweatpants with pride! Get yourself a scrunchie to match and tie your hair in a big ol' knot at the top of your head, too!! And then SMACK him with the spoon you are using to make your 7th pan of brownies!!
Yeah!
Cheesy rice, if I ever found a pair of sky blue sweatpants that made my ass look hot, I would rename them the Sweatpants of Business Casual.
I think we are long lost twins - not up before 10:30, Yoga-ey sweatpants as all-purpose wear (weddings, gardening, work, sleep, lounging on the couch eating junk food, etc...) - we were separated at birth!
Doesn't he know that fresh out of the dryer is like haute couture in sweatpants?
Oh Pru, thank you for that cackle! Poor man! He will learn or he will die. It is as simple as that.
Your fancy-schmancy Nike trews are a cut above my cheapo Matalan rags any day. The Dude should be so grateful!!
Ah... but your Dude is so truly blessed. For you see... my man is graced by a woman who owns and entire wardrobe of sweat pants to suit my many varying shades of apathy. Although, is there not something to be said for the fact that I've given my darling such an easily readable barometre of my ever-changing moods? I would say so! No guesswork required. And, yes... I actually do own a tiara... two in fact... and soon as I have finished writing this wee comment, I will be off to rummage in the attic with great purpose... for you have truly inspired me. I was lacking that perfect accessory to help me communicate that mood I will now call The Maria Callas of Apathy. Perfect!
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