Looking out my window just now, down to the street three floors below, I spied a young woman wearing what is now the most common item of women's "power" apparel -- skintight black pants. What does one call them -- ski pants? Yoga pants? Jeggings? Running pants? Tights?
Whatever their correct name they're ubiquitous, a symbol of feminine transcendence over her outgunned male counterpart. What man can compete with a full, heart-shaped ass?
Every morning, even in below-freezing December weather, I see ass on display in the Starbucks queue. Coats of a short cut are worn in order not to obscure the posterior. This is a cultural manifestation of, say, the last three years.
Males have likewise tightened and shortened their trousers, but to little effect. A more prominent display of the package and some ankle joints are thin gruel; they merely puerilize a man.
No, in the current age the woman "wears the pants."
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