By Vicki Hughes     Posted March 10, 2013

 

Pants. They drastically increase a person’s responsibility in life. I’m considering starting a revolution of people who are all very tired of being responsible, who, rather than flip out, just stop wearing pants. In the 60’s, women liberated themselves from social expectations by burning their bras. Maybe we could begin with a nice bonfire of pants.

It begins at a frighteningly young age. We start out wearing Onesies, where our chubby, Michelin- Man thighs can be squeezed at will, or in those soft, fleecy sleeping bags with arms and bunnies embroidered on the lapel…but somewhere around age two, someone puts you in pants, and as soon as that happens, suddenly here come the expectations. Now they want you to use the potty and stop spitting out your strained peas and for Pete’s sake, they insist that you share things. Back before those stupid pants, this was never an issue.

Pants are complicated. The question, “Who wears the pants in this family?” is still code for, “Who’s in charge?” seventy years after women quit wearing skirts every day.

Did you know that if you are wearing an attractive skirt, people will actually do things for you that they would not do if you were wearing jeans or slacks? That’s right. Stand next to a car with a flat tire in a skirt and see. Men, you are excused from this experiment.  Seriously, people will hold more doors, pick up fallen change, carry more of your parcels and basically act like better human beings when you shun pants.

Pants are a scourge.

Pants are anathema to all true relaxation. They don’t belong at the beach, in a massage or any place  tropical where you might sip a margarita. Pants equal full adult responsibility. Put on your pants and you are sending Life a text that says, “Bring it on, I’m ready.” Other than Scottsmen, who are in several  weird categories all by themselves, such as being completely unintelligible, people don’t charge into battle without  their pants on.

Pants baffle me further. Why is it called a pair of pants. It’s one article of clothing. It’s pants, not a pair. A pair is two. Pants refuse to comply with the laws of mathematics, they are so bossy.

Bossy Pants. Nobody ever uses the phrase bossy shorts or bossy skirts or bossy boxer shorts do they? Why? Because you can’t really pull off bossy behavior without your pants on. I mean, you’re welcome to try putting on your short-shorts and then address the Board of Directors if you’re feeling brave, but don’t blame me if the acquisition goes poorly. I warned you. We only want to be bossed around by people in pants. Bossing people around in skirts pretty much went out with Margaret Thatcher. After that, pants won.

Should life ever become all too much, and should you need to send a smoke signal out that says that you are no longer the person in charge, and all complaints need to be directed elsewhere…just take off your pants.

I guarantee, if the pilot of an airplane came out of the cockpit without his pants on, somebody else would be asked to land the plane. Someone in pants. Taking them off is a very clear signal that says, “I’m not in charge right now.”

Are your teenagers bugging the hell out of you, clamoring for you to arrange this and arrange that, take them here and pay for that? Off with the pants, watch them scatter!

The big difference between doctors and patients in hospitals? Pants. The ones still in pants are in charge and the ones in sketchy gowns are not. It’s all perfectly clear. As soon as they hand you the gown, you know immediately, there’s been a power shift. That’s why dentists and chiropractors will never get the same respect as an M.D. They can’t get you to take your pants off. At the end of a long week, I consider it the height of relaxation to remove my Bossy Pants and put on shorts or a swim suit or even a cotton sundress to simply send the world a signal that says, “Today I will not be making any further Big Decisions. Direct all inquiries elsewhere.

Talk to the Pants.

© Vicki Hughes 2013