Wednesday, March 2, 2011

God Given Pockets.

 I'm just going to throw this post into the mix for sheets and giggles. 

They boy was folding laundry earlier today and became slightly ("slightly" in an understatement) offended at the faux-pockets that the majority of my jeans and pants have.  You girls know what I'm talking about.  The "poser pockets" that don't really hold anything but the ounce of humor one has left after buying pants with no pockets?  Or the little flap that looks like it opens to a pocket, but really opens to nothing and makes you look like a glorified idiot when you spend 5 minutes attempting to stuff your hands into the side of your jacket?  Those pockets.

Ahem.  Anyway, the boy immediately began to frantically jab away at his laptop and 7 short minutes later this beauty of a piece found its way onto my facebook wall.  It's only been up an hour but has garnered 15+ comments.  I'd like to weigh in on what everyone else thinks on the matter of pockets, or the lack thereof. 

As a man, who loves a woman, I am angry. I just spent the last ten minutes organizing the laundry. I say organizing because I don't want people to get the impression that I was being domestic.

I wasn't.

I was bringing order to the chaos of my wardrobe.
However while taming the willful army of garments I noticed that Tawny has no pockets. This, I thought, must be a problem for her. I mean, my god, where does she store her pocket knife, or her lighter, where do her keys go? I checked the rest of her pants (which I had starched into obedient ranks.) There too, no pockets. This revelation in and of itself was hard to swallow but it was made worse by the fact that all of her jeans have these faux-pockets. Small dimples stitched into the fabric to give the illusion of function with all the depth of Snookie's new book. Two withered dents that remained in the pants like an appendix, hinting at a time of usefulness long since past. However the pocket has yet to outlast its evolutionary uses.
I was appalled.

Upon further inspection of the useless pockets a whole myriad of truths about her pants came to the forefront of my mind. They were completely debilitating. Clearly girl pants have a smorgasbord of flattering qualities, but at what cost? They are impossible to walk in, make climbing any hill or mountain path impossible, and render the full mobility of a woman to a tenth of its potential. This has been a given fact for a long time. This I was willing to let slide.
The pockets are too much.

High heels, form fitting dresses, and purses are all blatant conspiracies by male dominated garment industries to render women docile.(I learned that at Liberal Arts school) I've always been a fan of a well crafted cocktail dress and the well worn heel. It was not until this discovery of pockets however, did the awful truth of those words sink home.

A world without pockets, God given pockets, is no world worth having. Kangaroos have pockets! Chipmunks have pockets! Sponges, the lowest and most simple form of ocean life (it poops out of its mouth) have areas that work as pockets.

Why can't women have pockets?

Enough is enough I say. I have managed to make Tawny dependent on me through the careful application of charm, flattery, good-natured stoicism, and a brilliant use of cooking skills. I don't need the textile market to help. I've studied hapkido, I can cripple the woman I love on my own.

All of this went through my mind as I looked down at the precisely folded rows of clothes standing at attention. Not all clothes are created equal, but all men and women are.

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