Dear college girls and yoga pants (now with portions which are sheer),
Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. While sitting, half dead from waking up early and staying up late for three days in a row, in an airport, expected to land and go straight to work, there you were, the two of you, a combo possibly better than chocolate and peanut butter. (By the two of you, I refer to the combo of yoga pants and college girls. There were realistically at least a half dozen in one airport alone.)
Never mind they’re tighter than my boxer-briefs which I’d never be allowed to wear in public. Never mind that portions are now a sheer mesh on some yoga pants. Never mind that daisy dukes would leave me wondering more about what your butt looks like. You braved the world in a black second skin, and for that I say thank you.
There are few things more dreadful than sitting in an airport with nothing to do. But when you walk by with that disgusted look on your face, my admiration is a compliment on your fashion decisions and well kept butt.
A really bored guy in the airport who will burn his daughter’s yoga pants if she ever wears them in public
PS: In the words of Jayne Cobb, “I’ll be in my bunk.”
...like butta' on your toast!
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