Flesh-Colored Sweatpants
Ah, the 80’s. An unmemorable time in the world of fashion. I spent a large part of them in maternity clothes with stretch panels. My husband, on the other hand, spent more time than he should have in his own elastic waistband pants – flesh-colored sweatpants.
Did you know that they even made them? Once you get past the fact that they did, indeed, make sweatpants that match the skintone, one must ask another question: Why? Why did anyone make them, and even more importantly, why would anyone buy, or heaven forbid, wear them?
Those questions became increasingly important to me as my husband grew from the meat and potatoes meals he so dearly loves. And the case of his fashion faux pas grew into a major fashion crisis, which frankly, should have gotten him arrested. Wearing flesh-colored sweatpants isn’t a crime, but when they become skin tight, oh, there’s a high risk of being charged with indecent exposure.
Truly, they gave spandex a good name.
He wore them a lot. A lot. To the softball park, and in the bar. Yep, the sewn-in crease, skin tight, ‘bell-bottom,’ show every bulge, every bulge, sweatpants were like the sisterhood of the traveling pants. They went everywhere. But nobody would have shared them; he was the only one who seemed not to notice that they were, uh, let us say rather revealing.
His sister saw him at the softball field. Uncomfortable moment. Umm, don’t you think those pants should retire?
I rounded the corner coming home from work. Driving up to the house, I noticed him shirtless and pushing the lawn mower back and forth across the yard, flaunting his… oh my God, is he naked? He’s naked! I thought, nearly panicking and looking around to see if anyone else was outside. Then, sudden relief, good grief, he’s wearing those pants. Those friggin pants.
It was time. The pants went into the laundry. But mysteriously, they never came out.
He still asks for them, his second skin. They’re still yet to be found.
And I buy his clothes now. He owes me, big time.
And now new concerns are popping up. Caught him giving fashion advice to our 17-year-old daughter last week. Intervention time.
I’d love to hear your fashion faux pas stories – bring em on!
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