This is not something intentional. I bought them for my youngest daughter, who plays tennis and who’s been freezing during matches because it’s still April.
When she put them on, the broad band that is indicative of this style of clothing flapped and gapped over her flat tum. “You should try them on,” she said.
“I’d look like a sausage,” I said, thinking of my own tum, which reflects having had babies and eating chocolate at least once each day. Yet, in the privacy of my room, I did try them on, and was surprised.
With a hip-length top, I mused. Maybe. Probably.
I sprinted down the hall to her room. (Yoga pants will make you do things like this.)
“You look hot,” she said with approval. I didn’t believe her. This daughter is known for rants about body positivity. But, it didn’t really bother me that she was fudging.
I flexed my calves. I bent at the waist. I did a squat. (Again, yoga pants will make you do things like this.)
“You’re going to wear them every day, aren’t you?” she suggested.
She was clearly wrong. I have only worn them five of the last seven.