It has been 8 months since I last wore a pair of pants in public. I say “in public” because right now I am wearing pink sweat pants. They are jammies, so they don’t count. And yes I am wearing jammies at 11:30 in the morning. Living the dream, folks.
In this 8 months there have been very few surprises. Going in to this year I expected summer to be the easiest part of the year, I expected to get creative, and I expected to find some kind of empowerment through feminine clothing. The last part of my expectations has been the most interesting.
While I have gotten completely used to it by now, the thing I still think about the most is how I sit. The few times I have worn shorts I have been struck with how much easier it is to find comfortable positions in cars or wherever else you might lounge when you don’t have to be so concerned about flashing your undies. It’s this constant attention to what messages I might be sending or what body parts may be exposed that makes this kind of clothing something women from the 60’s rebelled against so strongly.
It’s rough. I didn’t understand before why some feminists find dresses and skirts to be such a patriarchal control device. I don’t agree that they are so restrictive they should be poo poo’d entirely, but I understand more now why it was such a big deal when girls could wear pants to school.