A Poem: A Pseudo Ode to Women Wearing Yoga Pants in Melt Your Face Heat

I just don’t understand.  I believe women should wear whatever they damn well please, BUT I SAW WOMEN SWIMMING TODAY IN YOGA PANTS (at SeaWorld/Aquatica in San Antonio).


To the ladies traipsing about outdoors in yoga pants in 97 degree heat and a million percent humidity,
I truly respect you, so please excuse my following acidity.
It’s a tad ridiculous you’re sporting your winter athletic wear while galavanting in this blazing heat.
I’ve seen you donning them at the beach, at the zoo, and on the streets.
I know what you’re trying to disguise,
but your yoga pants won’t act as a chrysalis and transform your legs into beautiful butterflies.
Those yoga pants are burning you alive,
operating as two individual ovens roasting your legs like rotisserie chickens.
Hey, I get it. Flattering summertime women’s legwear can be slim pickings.
You don’t have to resort to rocking daisy dukes,
but why wear heat-stroke-inducing pantaloons that cause you to nearly puke?
Seriously girl, wear whatever you want because you’re gorgeous,
but honestly (one chick to another), that sweat stain on your booty looks like a tyrannosaurus.  

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3 thoughts on “A Poem: A Pseudo Ode to Women Wearing Yoga Pants in Melt Your Face Heat

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