The social media outrage-ometre nearly shattered last week – such was the level outrage generated by a number of outrageously outrageous comments. Firstly Detective Inspector Mick Hughes advised women to avoid venturing into parks alone. Then John Laws publicly humiliated an elderly caller who rang in to talk about his experience as an abused child. There’s been a huge call for people to boycott Law’s program and I can say with some smugness that I am way ahead of the curve . I’ve been boycotting John Laws all my life …….. and Alan Jones and Kyle Sandilands. Tony Abbott compared Bill Shorten to Joseph Goebbels which generated some outrage (seriously when will people learn not to talk about the war). However for my money it was a lame analogy – Nazi propaganda actually worked.
Whilst all of this was pretty bad, peak outrage was reserved for Hollywood actress Eva Mendes (best known for her role as main squeeze to uber-crumpet Ryan Gosling) when she said…. wait for it……………
“You can’t do sweatpants … ladies, No. 1 cause of divorce in America, sweatpants, no!”
The sweatpant-gate story broke on the 18th March and as at the date of writing (21st of March) it is still trending. Three days is a veritable eternity in social media land. Eva and Ryan have both to taken to Twitter to declare the whole thing a joke and re-avow their love of sweat pants. Nevertheless so much wrong with the original statement.
For starters – lets not call them sweat pants. They are track suit pants. From now on I will refer to them in the Australian idiom as trakka dakkas. Secondly trakka dakkas far from being a leading cause of divorce, are the primary reason for marriages hanging together. I need to emphasize that I am not talking about shiny new, brand name gym wear. I am talking about pizza stained, worn at the knees, grey monstrosities from K-mart. Men get married so that they can sit on the couch, one hand holding a beer, the other slipped neatly within the straining waist elastic of their daggiest trakka dakkas watching the football and still score semi-regular sex. To even the most shameless of players, marriage means having the luxury of hanging up ones skinny jeans, pointy toed boots and smart casual blazer in favor of lounge wear bearing the Bonds label. Trakkas teamed with thick fluffy socks and a low rent polar fleece are a sign of a very strong marriage.
For women having to cook and clean on a daily basis is a small price to pay for the privilege of discarding one’s hooker heels and panty hose for fleecy lined comfort. (Please forgive my sexist generalization here – if a man had written that he’d be shot down in flames. It’s my second favorite double standard*). Nothing is more flattering to a man than to come home from a hard days work to find his wife slaving over a hot stove alluringly clad in his trakka dakkas, polar fleece and thick socks.
I am personally concerned about the stability of my marriage because I don’t wear trakka dakkas often. (Shock confession I know). I have a Beyonce butt and the things tend to gape around the waste. Generally I stick to teaming Best & Less leggings with my husband’s fleece and socks. I can’t tell you how much he loves this look. I really can’t. He likes it almost as much as my cougar pants. I extrude so much raw heat and sensuality in my elastic waisted leopard skin print shorts that Dadabs has to fight to contain his lust.
“You can’t resist my cougar pants” I tease. “I think I can” he replies but I can tell it is taking every last ounce of self control.
I am sure that there are millions of couples out there feeling jaded and contemplating a split but the thought of having to give up their trakka dakkas for more restrictive garments is too much to bear. It is simply easier to work on the relationship than change one’s pants.
How’s your relationship with your trakka dakkas?
What’s your secret to a lasting marriage.
** My second favorite double standard is that I can post pictures of shirtless hunks with out being called a misandrist. Its awesome.