Sweatpants have this weird stigma that’s connected with laziness, stains, feeling bloated, going to Walmart, and giving up on life, but despite the potential social disgrace of wearing them, I’m really tired of everyone (celebrities included) disparaging my beloved sweatpants.
Let me start off by acknowledging my bias: I am pro-sweatpants. I wear them at least once a month (but honestly, once a week might be more accurate). I’ve worn sweatpants in my car, at a friend’s house, running errands, getting a pedicure, putting gas in my car, taking the dog outside to take a dump, getting the mail, and the list goes on and on from there. The sweatpants in question don’t always match my top, and I’ll be completely honest: 63% of the time I wore them, I thought to myself, “Wow, this is a bad look,” but I didn’t care, and I still don’t.
In a feature for Lucky magazine, the ever-fashionable Zoe Saldana (you probably know her from Avatar, Star Trek, and Guardians of the Galaxy) had this to say about wearing sweatpants on a plane:
“I don’t believe in hopping on a flight in your sweatpants,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t care what your line of work is. I don’t care where you came from. I don’t care if you pulled an all-nighter and went straight from work to the airport—do not wear a sweatsuit on an airplane. That could be your last flight. I do not want to go down in sweatpants, hugging my pillow. If I’m going down, literally, let me go down in style.”
Um. If I’m on a plane that’s going down, I’m pretty sure the last thing on my mind is not going to be, “Egad! I knew I shouldn’t have worn this velour tracksuit, and now it’s too late!” More realistically, the standalone embarrassment factor of the style of pants I chose to wear won’t matter for long, because there will be shit in my britches regardless of how fashionable or unfashionable they are. Not to get morose, but when the plane reaches its ultimate conclusion, it’s a real possibility that your outfit (and possibly even you) will not be that easy to decipher anyway.
I think I have a healthy amount of concerns surrounding the possibilities of my untimely demise, but the implications of meeting my end in sweatpants aren’t among them. I wasn’t born in style—my mom informed me that when the nurse put me on the warming table I pooped all over it—so why should I have any expectations about dying that way? I’ve made peace with the fact I may kick the bucket wearing sweatpants, holey underwear (lace waistbands get jacked up, okay?), and the unflattering bra I wear when nothing else is clean. It’s not as if you have to be buried in what you died wearing! And are coroners really that bitchy? She’s wearing sweatpants with that plum nail polish? Bag her up before anyone else sees this ruined woman.
It goes without saying that we’re all free to make our own fashion choices, but why are sweatpants so contentious? Is giving your thighs and crotch some extra breathing room really that awful? Why can drop crotch, harem-style pants have a fashion moment, but sweatpants must be shunned? There are just some days when you wake up, and you literally cannot even think of fastening a button or using a zipper. There are weekends when you want your lower body ensconced in a baggy layer of gray cotton fabric, complete with a stretchy waistband that’s as forgiving and comforting as Mother Theresa.
Sweatpants may not be the sexiest garment out there, but that’s no reason for anyone to go around making sweatpants-lovers feel gross for wearing them. We’re not always proud of it, but we’re doing what we need to do to get by, just like everyone else in this world. Sweatpants don’t require a period-related explanation or an apology. In the past, I have actually warned people I’m going to see that I’ll be wearing sweatpants. Just so you know, I’m wearing sweatpants when we go to that movie later. How ridiculous is that? At least I’m wearing pants!
More to the point, not wearing sweatpants doesn’t mean you’re any better than the rest of us—it just means you’re less comfortable. Oh wait, I’m sorry. I seem to have forgotten that you’re perfectly comfortable in your bodycon dress, Spanx, six-inch heels, and push-up bra. Well, what’s so damn fancy about dresses anyway? Think about it. How is one big opening for your legs more sophisticated than individual pants legs? Dresses are far lazier even from a construction standpoint!
Stop hating my sweatpants, okay? Or you know what, keep it up. I’ll be there to say, “I told you so,” that day you have the chicken alfredo for lunch, spill your margarita on your fancy skirt, and had to put on some shameful sweatpants because you didn’t have any other clean laundry.
They all come crawling back, eventually.
PS: In support of sweatpants, I’m sharing with you a #sweatpantsselfie. Feel free to share any of your own sweatpants selfies on Instagram or Twitter: @katienotholmes.
Believe me, I have baggier.
