Some Notes on Yoga Pants

Oops, these aren't yoga pants--my bad

Now, like any other red-blooded chap, I appreciate yoga pants. A lot. They are easily one of the most glorious sartorial inventions in recent years. But naturally they look best on hotties only (at left).

On less svelte ladies they can similarly look attractive, but don't be deceived, as these garments have the ability to function as sausage casing for a fat arse just waiting for a chance to bust out all over the place. So beware.

But on fat girls yoga pants are patently unacceptable. There is no excuse. Ever.

This past weekend I spotted just such a specimen. I was sitting at an outdoor cafe, like a lizard in the sun, feeling good after a workout. A girlfriend soon joined me. Her blonde hair shone bright in the Southern California sun.

Not long after she sat down I spied over her right shoulder a fat girl settling down at a table with two of her friends, only one of whom was close to being fuckable .The fat warpig wore yoga pants, sunglasses, and lycra top.

They ordered. When the sandwich was placed in front of her the All-American fattie suddenly looked very serious, inspecting the food with a turned-up-nose finickiness as if she were about to start picking diamonds out of a pile of dogshit. And then she ate.

These sights disgust me, and they happen almost every day. Why I continue to subject myself to them, I don't know.