In which, once again, I don’t understand these damned kids today

Apparently, if you’re a young woman these days, it’s no longer enough just to wear jogging pants with “juicy” written across the ass in varsity letters. If the woman I saw on the subway this morning is any indication, you’re also supposed to roll the waistband over itself so the tag sticks out like a tail.

I ask you, Toronto: what the hell is that? It can’t possibly be comfortable, and it looks incredibly weird. Especially when you try running in them, as this woman did, because you’ve instantly got to strike a delicate balance between “I want to get over there as quickly as possible” and “my pants are about to fall down in public and I need to prevent that from happening.” The result is a weird bunny hop that no woman should be made to do because of her fashion choices.

And yes, I can’t tell this story without admitting that I spent a little time this morning looking at some woman’s ass in public. But it’s not like I was checking her out; it was genuinely an act of inescapable curiosity, not unlike the first time Galileo really took a good, hard look at the sun.

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