While self-isolating at home for many difficult months, I have been wearing what might, at first glance, seem to be sweatpants. Sometimes I wonder, Am I a slob? But the answer is no, because I am not actually wearing sweatpants at all. I am wearing a more fashionable variety of pants, known as “joggers.”
How do I know that my pants are not sweatpants but rather joggers? In sweatpants, I would be plunked on my bed like a blobfish, watching twelve episodes of “Younger” in a row and getting limited-edition caramel Oreo crumbs in my sheets. I, however, am wearing joggers—which means that I am still doing those things but could theoretically be going for a jog, instead.
My joggers are made from an entirely different material than sweatpants. According to a 2012 report from the U.S.A. Fabric Association that I was reading instead of doing my laundry, sweatpants typically are ninety-five-per-cent cotton and five-per-cent spandex. My pants, on the other hand, must be joggers because they are ninety-five-per-cent cotton and five-per-cent elastane, which is what people in Europe call spandex.
My pants are most definitely joggers, not sweatpants, because they have a tapered leg. Sweatpants, on the other hand, have a straight leg that balloons at the ankle. I’ll admit that, like sweatpants, the pants I am wearing have a drawstring, an elastic waistband, and two giant pockets that puff out around my hips. However, my pants do not balloon at the ankle, so we can rest assured that they are in fact sleek, sophisticated joggers.
Sweatpants are typically plain, without any special flair. Petey, my stuffed fox, has been wowed by a special feature of my joggers: they have an additional, diagonal seam on each leg. Petey and I know that if I were to step outside and finally get some fresh air while wearing these pants for the seventh day straight, I would be doing so aerodynamically.
Joggers are what the “Younger” star Hilary Duff wears when she’s getting a juice and drinking it outside. Like Hilary, I also could get a juice. That’s another way I know that I am wearing joggers, not sweatpants.
A good pair of joggers costs about eighty dollars, plus tax and shipping. Yikes! That’s a lot more than sweatpants, and that’s how you know you’re getting the real deal. A genuine pair of joggers makes you think, Why am I spending so much money on sweat—I mean, not-sweatpants?
Ultimately, I am certain that I am wearing joggers because my joggers are this pretty heather-gray color. I don’t think that sweatpants come in that color, right? And even though I’ve been sitting down for a while—like, many, many hours—I look totally fresh and stylish in these casual pants.
Oh, wait—I’m sorry, thinking about it, I realize that I was wrong. Sweatpants also come in heather gray. Never mind. Please forget what I said about jogger colors, but remember everything before that.
Anyway, as I was saying . . . Let it be known that when I recline on my bed all day with Petey, watch “Younger,” and do my part to help the world return to order, I most certainly am not a slob, because I am wearing my joggers—and that’s a fact. Thank you.
