I'm totally over baggy fucking clothes on folks. Hell, there's even a thing called drop crotch pants, those horrible semi-sweat pants where the crotch goes halfway to the knees. And not because the dick goes halfway to the knees. Or maybe it does because without any fabric clinging anywhere near it, who the fuck knows?
And I want to know.
I want to know the shape of most everything under those clothes. Maybe not the ribs. I don't really care about ribs too much. I'm not somuch a rib-fetishist like all those women-hating fashion designers. But everything else? Sign my up!
Actual jocks get into it for the challenge. Compete. Be number one in your state or country or world. Or maybe just at your school. But I say it's all a giant cover to get to wear spandex gear. At least with those sports where clingy clothes are de rigueur.
But everyone who plays golf does do it for the love of the sport (or the business networking or the irresistibly seductive combination of elitism and laziness. BTW if you play golf, you're awesome. Love you, mean it! Just like you love golf.
Because you're not in it for the tight clothes. Ugly clothes yes, but not sleazy tight ball hugging spandex.
So you have an opportunity to be part of the spandex revolution. Or lycra revolution. One of those is supposed to be capitalized because it's a brand vs. the generic word for the fabric but I can't remember and I don't want to care because power to the spandex people, we don't have to bow to the corporate spandex/lycra overlords. We own tight sleazy clothes. If we buy them anyhow.
So buy some. Give them as totally inappropriate gifts to platonic buddies. Give them to yourself. And wear them to the grocery store. And bank. And work. And library. And carwash. It's 2015. We need to all decide to look as futuristic and saran-wrapped as possible. No excuses. And make sure to stare at guy's spandex-clad bodies whenever you get the chance, even if it means stalking some bike races and 5k runs. Just pretend to cheer for somebody so your cover isn't blown.