My dear friend and Style & Design Expert, Sabrina Soto, wrote a very poignant article for her Online Lifestyle Magazine Casa & Company entitled To Wear, Or Not To Wear Yoga Pants. In it, she compares yoga pants to “prescription drugs” saying that when “used properly and in moderation [they] can really help your body, but if abused [they] can be highly addictive and cause permanent damage.”
As a serial yoga pant wearer, I could not agree more.
I am not afraid to admit, and my husband will attest to the fact, that as of late, my relationship with my lululemon’s has become somewhat toxic. Despite the fact that they have literally been there for me through thick and thin and have made my life exponentially more cozy with their delicate blend of nylon and Lycra, they have also become my lazy mom uniform.
I do not wear them all day, everyday because I am in a perpetual state of cardiovascular activity, I wear them all day, everyday because they are easy and require minimal energy to get into. Something that I cannot always say about my jeans.
My yoga pants never ask me to button or zip them, they don’t require dry cleaning or fancy detergents and they go with everything including, but not limited to: flip flops, sweatshirts and unwashed hair. As a stay-at-home mom, I have found no other item of clothing that gives so much and asks so little in return and that of course, is the problem.
Yoga pants worn by people like me, who don’t do yoga, has essentially created a culture of women who are choosing comfort over style which, in the long run, does us nothing but a disservice. The truth is, every morning when I throw my hair in a bun and slip into my lululemons I don’t feel energized to take on the day the way a yogi does, I just feel lazy and that feeling stays with me until I slip into my pajama pants every night.
Over the past five years I have managed to convince myself that having style is no longer an option because, as a mom and apparently a martyr, I do not have time for anything but my children. Yes, I am busy taking care of the needs of others but not so much so that I can’t run a comb through my hair or god forbid, throw on a dress once in a while.
At this point, my yoga pants have become that shitty boyfriend that all of my friends hate, but who I keep dating because we’ve been together since college and our relationship is comfortable.
I realize now, that as much as I may think I love my yoga pants, it’s time to take a break, so that I can figure out who I am without them.
It pains me to say it, but I know now what I must do…