Dear Ms. Mendes,
My name is Polly, Polly Esther Sweatpants. I believe that you have made some comments in regards to me and I would like to set the record straight in this open letter. I was not planning on coming forward, but honestly the media has been riding up the wazoo to get my story. I can’t take it anymore and therefore have decided to remove the wedge in one swift, understated motion. I will be the voice for all the sweatpants out there. We will band together (elastically) and we will fight the stigma. Well, as long as we can do it comfortably and/or after the gym.
To the meat of it, so I’m the “number one cause of divorce in America?” Me? That is patently incorrect. If anything I am the fabric that holds marriages together. Somebody write that down for my next slogan, stat.
This word: marriage. Are we even talking about the same thing? By marriage do you mean “a combination or mixture of two or more elements?” Because you know what sweatpants are right? They are a mixture of comfort and style mixed into one happy little pants package. One could say that sweatpants are the perfect marriage. One could say that wearing them is like wearing marriage. Wearing marriage is like cheering on your own marriage. Go team marriage! Go team sweatpant marriage!
I am not surprised that you decided to pick on me. I have been fighting the stigma attached to “sweatpants” for decades. Would you be saying the same things about me if my last name happened to be “loose trousers for leisurewear?” No, no you wouldn’t. But people feel like sweatpants somehow are an easy scapegoat for judging.
Anybody else think we might be putting a tad too much emphasis on pants as a whole? This might be one of those “any press is good press” situations, but just a few months ago people had their panties in a twist about yoga pants. Makes me nervous that we are chasing down sweatpants now too. Somebody refresh me, did gouchos make this much controversy in the ’70s? Remember when respectable women couldn’t even wear pants? Me either, but it was a thing. I for one don’t want women’s pants’ privilege revoked. Probably not possible, but I wouldn’t think it possible to pit sweatpants and marriage against each other either.
Words to remember and live by: life is like a box of chocolates . . . and you know what goes well with a box of chocolates? Sweatpants and Midol.
In closing: hey at least I’m not windpants. We can all agree those are the real threat to America. Not to marriage—but to all of America. Swoosh, swooshity, swoosh . . .
Polly Esther Sweatpants
This original piece by Mandy Waysman was written exclusively for In the Powder Room, a division of Hold My Purse Productions, LLC. Featured photo © depositphotos.com/khvost.