I’m going to throw this out there early on in this piece – I discovered the art of Not Giving Fucks a few years ago, and it’s been one of the most delightful skills I’ve ever added to my personal repertoire. Sure, I still need to consciously practise it in some scenarios (such as not giving a fuck if the bed is made perfectly or not when we have guests, because they aren’t even going to be in our bedroom anyway), but in other aspects of my life, the Not Giving Fucks principle is applied freely and without regret.
Naturally, there are things in life that we all give fucks about – eating, for example. Whether you love food or hate it, you’re still giving a fuck. What our close loved ones think of us is usually another thing we care about – though this doesn’t apply in all situations (such as my brother and I flipping each other the bird by way of greeting – it’s not only acceptable for us, but expected now – and our mum still cringes whenever we do it).
One thing I stopped giving fucks about quite some time ago, however, was strangers opinions of me. If I don’t know you, I don’t care if you think my hair looks like shit today. I don’t care if you think I wear too much or too little makeup. I also don’t care if you don’t think I need makeup – nobody said I did need it, least of all me. I wear it because I like it. End of story.
I don’t care if you think I’m fat (though snaps to you on not being blind! That’s always good to know!), and I don’t care if you think I’m beautiful or ugly.
I do care if you call me cute and expect me to be complimented by it, though. I’m a grown arsed woman, not a puppy, or a child, or a banging skirt that compliments my figure and has pockets.
Cute isn’t a compliment. In fact, I don’t have to take anything you say as a compliment, even if you meant it that way.
I especially don’t care what you think about my outfit.
I do, however, care that you think I, and other women like me, should care – and not in the way that you might expect. In fact, I take exception on behalf of other women when I hear strangers imparting their opinions on what we should and shouldn’t wear or do on or with our bodies.
While falling down the rabbit hole of the interwebs the other night, I came across a Letter to the Editor of the Mudgee Guardian, entitled – Are Leggings Pants? I’ll include a copy of the article’s contents here for your… “Enjoyment”:
“Can someone tell me why so many women are wearing a cross between stockings and track-pants?
Always black, skintight, no chance for the ‘wearer’ to hide the shape of their butt!
Imagine if this crossed over to men, a dreadful thing to contemplate, I mean people do what they do, I’m not trying to censor fashion, it’s just that the proportion of women signing onto this is something astronomical, but I have hope that this is just a trend of leisure apparel.
To be honest, I wait eagerly for whatever will represent the new fashion, perhaps ugg boots up to the knees.
But for now, those dedicated fat bottomed girls trying to squeeze into them, have a great challenge.
For me, it’s all too much information, but that’s my problem.’ – Warwich Reid, Mudgee.
Take a moment. Read it again while I draw a big, big breath.
I’m praying this guy is trying to be funny. I hope with a fervent passion that this is some odd attempt at humour that I just don’t understand – because the fact that he feels so strongly against something that is simply none of his business that he needs to write an opinion piece to a newspaper about it is laughable.
Naturally, if he’s so concerned, then he deserves a response. So I’m going to give him one.
May I call you Warwich? Because I am anyway. I read your opinion piece on leggings in the Mudgee Guardian, and I must say, your deep confusion was evident. Being the kind person that I am, I am going to attempt to alleviate some of your distress on the issue of whether or not leggings are indeed pants, and why so many women insist on wearing them.
To answer your most pressing question – yes. Leggings are considered pants. And every woman I’ve spoken to who wears them states the same reason behind their choice in leisure-wear each time – they’re fucking comfortable!
As to them being a mix of stocking and track-pants – I can assure you that stockings are not at all comfortable. More often than not they’re made of a nylon/polyester blend. They itch, or they slide over your skin as you walk and the sensation isn’t a pleasant one, especially if you forewent moisturising your legs that day in the interest of getting your stockings on without fuss (spoiler: you never get stockings on without fuss).
They also tear and ladder really easily (and I don’t mean the traditional ladder with rungs that you might use to climb onto things like high horses). These rips and ladders are absolute bastards that turn into invading forces that pillage the Nylon Colonies until everything is left in ruins.
Track-pants, while rating higher on the comfort scale, are often fleece lined, which can lead to a woman overheating very quickly (unless you’re like my mum, who loves fleece because she feels the cold rather acutely, and requires the extra warmth to function properly). A woman, nine times out of ten, will dress for comfort and practicality instead of style. Especially if they’re chasing small children, or working out (as we are inclined to do between our bouts of dressing to impress and looking good to please the general male population, even those of us with fat bottoms). Also, trackies are great for at home lounging, but they’re daggy as all hell, and as such, we try not to wear them out in public too much. After all, guys don’t like it.
Fun fact: track-pants have been known to be behind at least 71% of My-Butt-Is-Actually-Smaller-Than-It-Looks-Right-Now-But-These-Pants-Don’t-Show-It cases. Shocking, I know. (Not actual statistics – the real ones are probably higher.)
Track-pants can contribute to a daring derrière, but not in the way that I think you were hoping for.
I don’t know where you got your “always black” stats from, but I happen to own leggings in shades of black, grey and white. Because black, grey and white go with pretty much everything – and like I said before, ladies dress for comfort and practicality. Maybe the women in your area prefer black because it doesn’t show up nasty stains like snot, vomit, drool or blood quite as easily as other, lighter shades (unless it’s particularly viscous snot – then you get that lovely snail trail effect). It also goes with everything. We like a pant that you can dress up or down – versatility is key in a woman’s wardrobe! Also, the joys of modern technology mean that we have an array of leggings in different colours and patterns at our fingertips, should we so desire to buy them.
While leggings are figure hugging, yes, I’ll have you know that I’ve never owned a pair of leggings that were skin tight all the way from my hip to my heels – they usually bag at the knees.
As I am but a woman, whose existence revolves around keeping a home for my partner and dreaming of the day when I become a mother, you’ll have to forgive my ignorance of more important matters like social law and order, and enlighten me on when the Hidden-Butt-Shape Act was introduced? As made clear by your objections that the shape of our rear ends are clearly defined by our leggings for public viewing, it’s obviously law for us to ascertain an air of mystery now by covering our curves and lines with shapeless, baggy clothing.
Perhaps I’ll start a chain of Potato Sack clothes – it could be lucrative. I could do a line for men too. Which reminds me – if men chose (or choose) to wear leggings then good for them! Welcome to the Comfort Club, my friends. We’ve been expecting you.
I don’t know where you were during 2008, Warwich, but I’m sorry to inform you that knee-high ugg boots have already been a trend, and therefore your suggestion that it replace leggings is kind of invalid. Flo-Rida even references the phenomenon in his classic club hit, Low –
“Apple bottom jeans/Boots with the fur/She got the whole club looking at her.”
I owned a pair of knee high uggs in the days of my youth, and I can confirm that I did indeed feel that everyone in the club looked at me when I had them on – mostly because they were slippers, and I was wearing them in a pub. But shit, son, I was comfortable.
And do you know what I LOVED pairing with my uggs if I couldn’t find jeans? I’ll give you a hint – you won’t like the answer.
(Also, knee-high ugg boots won’t cover our clearly-defined, legging-clad arses. Just saying.)
So I shall leave you with the sincere wish that, even though you are a man who claims to already have too much information, you have found yourself better informed by my carefully considered and considerate response to your cry-for-clarity letter to your local newspaper.
P.S. Did I mention leggings are so damn comfortable because they stretch? Stretching literally eliminates any challenge in getting them on – even for us fat-bottomed beauties.
It would seem the only challenge here is your ability to mind your own damn business.
Hey look at that, you were right – it is just your problem! Congratulations!