It’s a conspiracy, you see, and it begins in childhood. The fashion industry makes clothes for women and girls that are meant to keep us ladies down. Hobbled. Depressed. Dare I say, Self-Loathing.
I’ve felt this way for a long time, but it all came to thread head this weekend. I got my nickers in a twist while shopping with Bambi last night. Once again, in the little girls department, I ranted noticed that little girl pants have flared legs while little boy pants have straight or tapered legs. Why? There can only be two reasons: to sexualize the thighs of young girls, or to make sure that when these tots go to run and play, their excessive ankle fabric swaddles the feet, causing tripping, falling and athletic frustration. It’s a conspiracy to slow women down while making them resent their thighs.
OK – if you think I am wacky about the pant legs, let’s take the bottom off the pants argument for a moment and just focus on the top half of the bottoms. As with the pants, the selection of shorts differs by sex as well. In the same line of clothing (Geranimals), the girls jeans shorts are 3 inches shorter than the boys shorts. THREE INCHES. Proving that clothing manufactures are keeping the hot summertime slides, and all the gravitational fun therein, reserved for the BOYS with the thigh protecting pants. Don’t even get me started on the pockets. The girls shorts have two tiny pockets that you can only put two fingers in whereas the boys get to enjoy a roomy full hand space for toting rocks a pleanty.
Conspiracy. I’m telling you.
I bet, at this point, you are wondering about what all this kiddie clothes talk has to do with the title of this post. I’m coming to the point via the scenic trail: women’s pants. The shrinking of the pockets in the Toddler Wear aisle continues into the Women’s Pants shop, where many pockets disappear all together. About half of my pants have NO pockets at all. I challenge you find a pair of men’s pants that go without a wallet slot. Even my husband’s sweats and swimmies have some kind of pocket.
How can this be? Blah blah blah carry a purse or something, people say. But it’s just another way to keep women hobbled. I could put my keys and cell and wallet in a purse, but then I have to hold that purse in one hand or balance it on a shoulder. Men don’t get hobbled that way. They have roomy pockets to carry it all, hands free.
Which brings me to today, when I left my barfing Elly at home with Tony. I wanted to be able to get to my cell if either of them needed me, but my dress pants (and I needed to wear nice things as I was sponsoring a new family today) are pocketless. Where to put that phone… Hmmm?
I settled on BRA. You know what I mean. That natural pocket created between Playtex and Sternum. Just the right size for a wee cell.
Wouldn’t you know that today was the day that my phone would ring in church.
Humiliating as the mammary melody was, I wasn’t about to be out of contact today with my family. Ironically, neither call was from Tony. As it turns out, an offer on our house is forthcoming, and my Realtor is right on top of things. Even on a Sunday morning. I look forward to telling you all about it in a day or two, but I digress.
Conspiracy of Pants. Am I on to something here?