Mr. President, please help

February 10, 2009

As most of you know, I’m not in favor of big government. It gets in the way, it makes terrible decisions, it’s arrogant, it’s inefficient, it’s expensive…need I go on?  But I realized the other day that there is an area of private life where they need to get involved.

Workout clothing.

I mean, really?  Look, if you’ve decided to get in shape – Honey, I’m all for it.  Work it girl (or guy).

But for the love of Pete, there are certain things on your body that were meant only to be seen by you and God!  Those of us running down the street or workin’ it on the treadmill were not meant to see what you keep hidden under your clothes.

Case in point.  You may remember my entry last year about the man running in a thong in New York. Well, I didn’t think I could really top that.  Alas, I was wrong.  Top it? Maybe not. Perhaps just match it.  Just a few days ago, I drove down to Publix to pick a few items while on a short hour furlough from the chains of the opera house.  As I walked into the store, an elderly gentleman (of whom there are a million in Sarasota a.k.a. retirement-ville) walked in next to me.  Normally, this would not be of any particular consequence except for the fact that the instant I looked at him my eyes were accosted not only by bright teal spandex biker shorts, but bright teal spandex biker shorts stretched to the point of explosion over a Depends!  The man was wearing biker shorts over an adult diaper! Really?  Did you look in the mirror before you left the house? Did no one mention to you as you walked out of the house, “Hey grandpa, your diaper is showing!” I mean, a person who would have the gall to wear such a thing in public is probably of the mental state to require that they not live alone.  Who would have the heart to let him leave like that?

After continuing to avoid looking at him like a train wreck, I pulled myself away down the baking aisle to try and cleanse my eye palate.  The image is still burned in my mind.

Mr. President, I don’t ask for much. I don’t want any money from you. I don’t care about your darn stimulus package, but will you please do something about spandex?

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