I Hate Yoga Pants

My track suit was wearing out, and I looked on line for a cheap replacement.  The only item that seemed to come close was a pair of slacks with stripes down the leg.  I never heard of yoga pants before, but surely they would be good for walking.  The name implied the clothing would stretch with you, no matter how outlandish the pose.  Besides, they were on sale.  How bad could they be?  Only days later, I found out.

Exercise clothes are worn in rotation, and I’ve come to dread yoga days.  Those silly things fight me unmercifully.  They are fine once they are on, but what a struggle they are to get into!  You can step into a normal pair of slacks by standing on one leg and inserting the other into the garment.  You pull it up a bit and repeat the process, and you are dressed.  Not so with yoga pants.  Go back to step one.  Balancing on one leg is easy, but then the war begins.  Foot #1 aims at the fabric leg.  So far, so good.  Foot meets insidious inside pant and gets stuck.  The miracle stretchy stuff grabs a toe and won’t let go.  I shake my leg to show it who is boss, and that would straighten out normal clothing.  Mischievous yoga takes the opportunity to stick to my heel as well as my toe.  Yes, it has a toe hold and clamps as tightly as a wrestler in a title match.  The dance that ensues is not a victory dance, not at all.  It is a near fatal death struggle.  Going in circles accomplishes nothing except to increase the possibility the idle leg will wrap around an ankle and bring me down with a thud.  I let out a sigh of frustration.  Instead of admitting defeat (defeet in this case?), I angrily dance another round.  The second sigh of frustration helps convince me to sit on the bed to renew the attack.  Believe me, pulling the material is more likely to dislocate a toe than advance the pants up the leg.  I kick the fabric into the approximation of a straight line, bend down, and inch by slow inch coax the fabric over the defiant toes and heel.  There is no quick way to do this.  I was once fooled into thinking the second step was to repeat the process for the other leg.  No.  Step #2 is to concentrate on not losing ground.  If I’m not extremely diligent, the first leg tries to descend to the level of the second, something like water seeking its own level.  Don’t mess with Mother Nature!  Keep one eye on the first leg and the other a few inches away on the second.  This takes practice and is not for the fainthearted or easily dizzied.  On a good day, both legs are equally covered, and one last tug is all it takes to be dressed.  On bad days I’m lucky to get to the village before everyone has left.

My daughter patiently explained to me that yoga pants are so named because you will have assumed most yoga positions before you get them on.  Now I know.