NaBloPoMo 17: Confession Time

I have a confession to make, a secret. People might unfriend me for this, but it's time for me to come clean, and say it:

I don't give a shit how low you wear your pants. 

I don't care where you buckle up: at your knees, or at your nipples, it is of no consequence to me. Because, as I see it, this guy:

...is, neck to toes...covered with fabric. Cotton to linen to denim, I don't see one inch of flesh on the way up until I meet his neck. I recognize that there's a patch of plaid fabric that sends the message, "in here is my butt," but I don't think it's so offensive that we have to kick everyone out of America and start over again.

I don't perceive the outrage over this trend to be any different than the suffragette's showing a little ankle, or Elvis shaking his hips.

I am most concerned that these boys are changing their gait to keep those pants up, thus throwing out their hips, back, and knees. That is cray-cray for sure, but haven't women been doing this in detrimental shoes since the beginning of time? We screw up our arches, lose our toenails, twist and/or break our ankles and end up in a boot for 6 months to a year, for our shoes. Guilty, your honor.

I haven't found a single valid argument against low-rise jeans with fabric in-between. It was in fashion 10 years ago—seriously, it's not going away; how long are we going to bitch about it? My own kid, now in the military, rocked the look in '04, and I have fond memories of going out with his grandmother and gleefully picking out "rubber ducky" boxers for Christmas.

Furthermore, I have no idea how anyone finds this:

 

more offensive than this:

The coin slot. Twenty-five cents, please. At coffee shops, plugging in their phone chargers, at Walgreens looking for fingernail polish remover on the bottom shelf, how many times must I just look away?!

I just wish that girl had put on some boxer shorts before she left the house.