Oh gods, this was great. An alternate term that I’ve seen is “yoga pants,” usually with the invective of who should or should NOT be wearing yoga/ass pants. And I love-love-love this: “Ass Pants get you likes and retweets on social media as well as comments that are sexually aggressive: comments that frighten and excite our vanity all at once, and, best of all, provide fodder to complain about objectification over your mimosas.” That, and “ass” being the new breasts.
You know, Julie, there are some feminists out there who are probably going to be very offended that you dared equate our (women’s) choices in clothing with the unwanted objectification we must “endure” from men. I mean, what, I should NOT wear ass pants because MEN might think it’s sexy? Fuck that. ‘I wear ass pants for ME, and not for them.’ Snork. Same reason I show my tits via low-cut blouse — it’s how *I* embrace my OWN sexuality. God, the stench of hypocrisy is nauseating.
Bottom line? If you’re going to wear the pants, show the tits, OWN it. Own that yeah, you’d like a gaze or two your way, and not necessarily at your eyes. And then don’t bitch about it when men get all hyper-focused on it/them. What, we presume to undo a gazillion years of biology by telling men they have no right to be sexually aroused by our bodies when we display them? This might sound like a non sequitur to your main thrust w/r/t the article. But I catch hell for pointing this out — from feminists — so, glad to find someone else saying it. And truth is truth.
On your article as a whole — this is a fantastic slice of truth w/r/t feminism, women, men, socio-economics, and our culture. We’ve all seen them: women running into the grocery store, messy, sweat drizzled hair (which you can buy, bottled and ready to tousle tresses, via “Sea Spray” from Bumble and Bumble or Lush for that ‘just spent a day jogging on the beach, then took a swim’ look), ass pants, a slim-fitting jacket, “yoga body” clearly in “Ohm” as she grabs her dried kale for a car snack and her protein shakes (low-carb, gluten free.) I long for the days when a good, healthy size was a sign of privilege, not the other way around.
In the 80’s, when I was a teen, I bemoaned my bubble ass and lack of ta-tas while all the “hot girls” had slim hips, barely-there bums and giant breasts. Now, my body “finally” fits the societal zeitgeist of female desirability in terms of physical proportions ie: round, muscular, firm ass, good musculature, etc. In my twenties I was training to be a body builder. I had 11% fat on me. Too much. I needed 8%. Man, those were the days.
At 48, I am still blessed with the firm, round ass, thanks to years of squats, dead-lifts and genetics. But, the rest of me looks…how it looks. When I see those ads, what I see is a new form of physical-perfection-impossibility being foisted on women, and with it, an ideal of leisure and wealth that is only a dream to most of American women. I don’t feel motivated to work out OR buy their ass pants. Their work and “creativity” is in keeping and maintaining their bodies. It’s a lifestyle, and a profession. As a professional writer, I do Kegals at my desk. Does that count? I used to be a work-out freak, but Life has a sick sense of humor and working out is on hold for me, TBD.
Especially annoying are the commercials for waif-like, excellent gene-bearing Kate Hudsen, and her line of ass pants. Size-two women, walking around in their ass pants, running in their ass pants, nothing’s a-jiggling in their ass pants, in downward-dog-ass-pant-ing, and then cut to Kate, laughing at something super-hilarious-funny, because she’s JUST LIKE ME, like US. The commercials try to tell us that we’re all the same, Kate is so totally down to earth, ya know? “Well, I mean…they’re (sic)cu-ue..” laugh laugh, referring to how “cute” and special her ass pants are. Oh yes, Kate, they are so very cute. And she’s “in love with the splatter pattern,” how that’s possible, I’ve no clue, since the “splatter/spatter” pattern has been around for 30 years, and wearing a poor rendition of a badly-mimicked Pollack painting on my body is just SO...21st century.
So, as this comment seems to echo the spatter/splatter pattern of my new BFF, Kate Hudsen, I conclude with this: brava, Julie. I think this is one of the best articles I’ve seen on the “new feminine ideal” and how, insidiously, it is only available to wealthy, upper-class women who can afford the pricey gym, the buff trainer and his Crossfit/boot camp phys ed., and organic, gluten free paleo shit at the Whole Foods market, where other privileged, upper-middle class mommies go to buy food for their lactose-intolerant children and their “healthy-lifestyle-choiced” partner/spouse.
Because women who barely make rent can’t afford to be “ideal.” They don’t have the money for any of that, they are stuck with Ramen and Mac ’n’ Cheese because unhealthy, fatty foods are cheaper than a healthy diet. That, and they are too busy working 2 jobs to make ends meet.
Thank you for this. I have a piece that echoes some of the sentiment in this article, and you can find it here. Not wanting to SSP, but I do think you might enjoy it. Watch the video with the poem, it’s better. :) Good luck and I’m so happy I found you on Medium. Cheers! ja
