A quick note to the mom who has stopped wearing yoga pants—and publicly declared it on her blog and on social media—because they can cause lustful thoughts in men: Um, seriously, lady?
Granted, this young mom, Veronica Partridge, writes a Christian blog, and she starts off the post by saying that she’s not telling other women what they should and shouldn’t wear. Well…by virtue of putting it out there in this particular way, there is definitely a degree of “I’m doing this and it’s good” and “You’re doing that and, well, I certainly wouldn’t do it.”
But whatever. Put on your judgey (non-yoga) pants and feel free. It’s your right as a human being and as an American.
Online commenters have called her out for slut-shaming, victim-blaming and doubling down on the idea that men have absolutely no personal responsibility when it comes to their thoughts and actions. I think that’s all pretty spot-on. That attitude contributes to our society’s terrifyingly pervasive rape culture, and it’s certainly not the mind-set with which I want to raise my son.
I want my son to know that he—and he alone—has full responsibility for his choices and actions. I want him to see women as equals, not objects. And I want him to be a good man with a strong sense of morality and integrity—not someone who blames inexcusable behavior on someone or something else.
And if I ever have a daughter, I want her to be safe and happy and confident. I don’t want her to be raised in a world where she’s “asking for it” because she wore something that someone else deemed “too sexy” or somehow inappropriate. I want her to know that she has value as a person, beyond her body—but at the same time, that her body is not something to be ashamed of.
But aside from all of that, at the end of the day, who’s the arbiter of “sexy,” anyway? Anything can cause lustful thoughts. Certainly a bathing suit on an innocent trip to the beach with the kids, a shirt that may have a button unbuttoned a little too low (I spied a suspect one on one of the author’s previous blog posts), a wisp of hair brushing the nape of a woman’s otherwise bare neck, an exposed collarbone, a sandaled foot…
You get my point. Different strokes for different folks—or, more to the point, different fetishes for different dudes.
If some random guy finds my yoga pants irresistible—splattered with baby spit-up, pancake batter and/or glitter from yesterday’s toddler art project—well, then that’s his issue, not mine.
Also, make no mistake: If you spot me covering my “lustful” yoga pants and my delightful derriere with a long shirt, it has nothing to do with modesty. It has to do with the fact that I lived through the ’80s—spandex, crop tops and all—and I have no desire to repeat those fashion crimes again. In my opinion, that’s a much more valid reason to cover your butt.