Swishy Pants

I have nothing against fat people. Santa is fat. Buddha is fat. And let me tell you, Gandhi was a real porker before he got a hold of Nutrisystem or so says the infomercial. Still, if your ass odometer has blown past pleasantly plump and into Orca-like territory, please have the decency to mind your wardrobe.

Spandex avoidance should go without saying. I’m more concerned with what I refer to as Swishy pants. Here’s a safe rule of thumb. If, when standing upright, there’s not enough room between your thighs for two fairy flies to comfortably fornicate, please avoid any fabrics that could spark a friction induced forest fire.

This is no public service announcement. You want to slow roast your thunder thighs? Have at it. Just avoid the temptation to incessantly walk by my office in a mind-grating, Wal-Mart style space suit. The MC Hammer craze is long gone. Opt for cotton. Then hit up Gandhi for that 800 number. Seriously, you’re driving me insane-er-ist.