One thing no one ever tells you about those skin tight workout pants things is that they. are. hot. Like, melt your face off while you’re running hot. Like, put them on and sweat buckets hot. Like, I went to spin-class and all I got what this bag of sweat hot. Hot.
Yes, I caved and purchased tight workout pants.
How it Happened
I had zipped over to an outdoor mall (California, folks, this is a major thing here) and while nabbing a gift for Brian, I saw a Lulu Lemon and thought I’d see what all the fuss was about. They had a sign outdoors promising a Clearance section (silent fist pump, yeah!) and I figured I’d stroll in casually, race to the back, and try not to look at anything else. Except I couldn’t find the Clearance section and got stuck at the normal priced area, embarrassed to admit to the hot, ship-shape women working the floor that I couldn’t afford their goods unless the prices were slashed. Price: $92.
I didn’t even try them on, opting instead to remove myself from the situation. Was $92 truly ridiculous? I run every day. If I loved the pants, I could foreseeably wear them for years. Assuming I only put them on every other day, or even every third day, I’d still be getting my money’s worth. Plus, LuluLemon offered a deal: wear them once, and if you don’t like them bring them back.
Um, that’s amazing.
Still. That $92 scared me, so I walked away and found myself in Gap Body, where I’ve never actually been. The idea was to check out their underwear prices (lo and behold, sticker-shock me had been annoyed to see the price of Victoria’s Secret underwear had gone up again) and see if maybe they were a little better (answer, yes). And Gap Body also sells workout clothes. Tight workout pants, in fact. For an extra four dollars, tight workout pants with pink stripes.
#Sold for $54 (along with five pairs of plain-Jane black underwear for $20, in case you had to know).
Practice Makes Perfect
After tumbling those new pink striped pants around in the washing machine, I wore them on a visit to my parent’s during the day before my first run. I wanted to practice being in public in skin tight pants before actually being in public in them. I also wanted to practice pulling them onto me, as getting them up felt like trying to stretch a too small piece of Saran wrap over a really large artichoke that you want to save for lunch tomorrow. Upon saying hello to me, my parents didn’t vomit in disgust, or mention that I looked like a hussy, so I decided I could run in them.
Nessa is one of my frequent running partners – she lives close by, is uber chatty, and likes running the lake. Perfecto-mundo, dude. So I ran down to meet her in my pants. “Fire legs!” she said upon meeting me. I’d been running for about five minutes and already wished I could take my pants off and thought she could see the sweat (though I’d purchased black pants purposefully to help aid in hiding any darkened fabric). I then realized she meant the pink stripes, and that the black was doing it’s cover-up job well.
As far as pants go, I admit the tight pants thing is pretty comfortable. They move with you, it’s almost like wearing nothing, but with a barrier so you don’t get heat rash. With the pants going down to my ankles, I deeply wished I had opted for the below the knee version which would likely have been less hot. But the heat. Oy, it was like being trapped inside a bearsuit. A really tight bearsuit.
What I’ve Learned Since Then
Well, obviously, don’t bust those tight pants out on hot days unless you are darn prepared to whip your shirt off midway through your run, or if you don’t get hotter than Hades on a regular basis.
But more importantly is where to buy those darn legging things: Marshalls. Seriously. I went into Marshalls (aka TJ Maxx, or basically Ross) and there were so many leggings of various sizes and lengths it was hard to believe. At prices that weren’t horrible. I wonder if that should become their motto: Prices that aren’t horrible. Has a nice ring to it.