“Sweatpants, hair tied, chillin’ with no makeup on, that’s when you’re the prettiest.” -Drake
Everyone has heard it. Every female has been annoyed by it. And most of them, I would hope, don’t believe that shit for one second. Apparently, Drake has never been around myself in the above situation. I am the queen of all aforementioned activities (or lack thereof). I can make it look effortless and disgusting. It is an art that I was lucky enough to be gifted with.
For starters, I could live in sweatpants every hour of every day for the rest of my life. You think I’m kidding, I’m not. You want to know what the best feeling in the world is? Coming home after a long day of work. You’re tired. You have a headache. You make your way up the steps and begin to quicken your pace for you know the bliss that is about to unfold. You start to unbutton those hot, jagged pieces of metal that have been digging into your stomach all damn day, while still in transit to the closet. Finally, you slip on what feels like hundreds of little cherubs, gently massaging your legs, and suddenly, all is right with the world.
To continue, I have more pairs of sweatpants than pants. I hate jeans. I think every pair that ever existed should be burned. Whoever invented these horrific torture devices and gave human beings the idea they had to wear them daily, clearly is the spawn of Satan. Don’t even get me started on my argument questioning why it is acceptable for toddlers and the elderly to wear sweatpants and track suits, but God forbid I wear a pair of yoga pants to work.
Ok, back to Drake. ‘But Amanda, no makeup?’ you ask. This should answer it well enough for you, my darling reader: Over a month ago, I went on a weekend getaway with my husband. Wanting to look semi-presentable for a NHL game, I packed my makeup bag. Guys, I kid you not, I just took my makeup bag out of my duffel two days ago. I had to look semi-presentable to the Holy One on Easter. The End.
Finally, and most importantly, the part that Drake omits (perhaps unintentionally as he simply has no clue, or perhaps purposely as it disgusts him) is previous said girl sprawled on the couch, curtains drawn for fear of seeing actual sunlight, watching hours upon hours of “Snapped” (or some other tantalizing true crime TV show). The remnants of a large thin crust pepperoni ‘za from Pizza Hut on the coffee table in front of her, empty cans of Diet Coke next to the empty box. Purposely silencing all incoming phone calls for fear of having to make plans, get dressed, and (gasp!), leave the house. In other words, the picture of bliss.
Now, let’s get real. In all seriousness, I don’t think any guy in the free world would think that the above is more attractive than when we get all dolled up and perrrrdy for a night out. Why guys even bother saying preposterous statements such as Drake’s poignant observation, is both irritating and mildly condescending. We all know you’re lying. You’re not fooling anyone. At least not this gal.
End of rant. Now, I’m off to do what I do best.
Until next time…