Somehow you ended up with four 9am classes this semester. WTF? You can barely get up for your kickboxing class at noon on Fridays, and someone expects you to make it to class (ready to learn!?) by 8:50am the rest of the week?

Oh hell no.

You hope your professor doesn’t expect you to look presentable. Hell, he should just be happy you left yourself enough time to brush your teeth. Your morning routine is always the same: you roll out of bed at 8:30, grab the first pair of sweats you can find on the floor, throw your hair into a ponytail and run out of the house. You pop into the campus coffee shop en route to lecture and grab a coffee (“Giant, please!”) and something to munch on (“Give me the butteriest bagel you’ve got back there”).

What? It’s early and you need comfort.

You slide into your seat just as the Power Point appears on the wall in front of you. If it weren’t for the food, you’d probably fall right back to sleep – you’re just so comfortable. When class is over, you go to your next class, or to the library, or home for a nap. Whichever you choose, you sport the sweats for the rest of the day: through the classes, the breaks, the meals…

You spend so much time in your sweatpants during the week, in fact, that when the weekend comes and it is time to wear something that doesn’t say “Pink” across the ass you have trouble getting into them. No, not motivating yourself to get dressed; actually getting into them. After the first few weeks of classes your clothes feel a bit snug but you can still make em work (“I must have shrunk these a bit in the dryer….”). As the semester wears on, however, putting on your going-out-jeans has become a sweaty workout.

When the pants stop moving at your thighs, you begin to pull harder. You grab the belt loops and yank, squeezing your thighs, butt and belly into the denim sausage casing. Then you jump around a bit. Then you lay on the bed and see if that helps. If you finally do get those suckers closed, you start lunging around your room, doing squats, and sitting down to see if the denim gives a little bit.

It does not, but you’ve already tried on every other pair in your closet and these fit the best. You decide they will have to do. You throw on a loose shirt on top (to camoflauge the muffin top), throw back a few more drinks and head out.

Your legs and feet begin to fall asleep at some point in the night due to decreased circulation. You have trouble bending your knees to get up the stairs to exit the bar. Your jeans nearly tear as you sit in the cab. When you finally get home and peel those things off  – and notice the deep red line across your belly – you know you’ve got to do something.

It is then that you vow never to wear sweats to class again; those elastic waistbands are far more forgiving of the donuts, the bagels and the sugary Fraps you fill yourself with on a daily basis. (Note: when sober you also realize that cutting those things out of your diet may be a good idea, too.)

We know how you feel. We’ve all had the sweat pant weight gain before. Just get up for that kickboxing class and you’ll be OK.

As a resident of good ol’ NYC, my out-of-town friends always assume I’m living the Carrie Bradshaw life.  While cosmos do indeed pour out of my sink instead of water, my bedroom doesn’t boast the revolving door of men for which SJP & Co. are famous.  Sure, guys are everywhere- washing your windows in the morning, riding the subway with you in the afternoon, sleeping on your stoop at night- but selecting which ones are actually eligible for your affections is a tad tricky.

You see, everyone knows the gays love Manhattan.  Don’t roll your eyes.  Please, we have Broadway…this is their Mecca.  And across the water we have Brooklyn, a mother ship for hipsters the world over.  They come in droves, sporting their cross-body bags, boasting blasé attitudes and a taste for bands you’ve probably never heard of before.  Wondering what these two groups have in common?  More than you think, and it makes crushing really tough. And I know this phenomenon is spreading like wildfire from coast (Brooklyn) to coast (West Hollywood).

If you think I’m kidding, take a look below and try to figure out which of these boys would like you and which would like each other.

Super Tight Jeans

Deep V-Neck Tees (Preferably of the American Apparel Variety)

General Sartorial Elitism

Interesting Hair

Interesting-er Facial Hair

Severely Unbuttoned Oxfords

Scarves

Thick Rimmed Glasses

Enthusiasm for Bikes

Impossible, am I right?

Well, not totally. That is, assuming you can yank that boy’s iPhone out of his super tight back pocket and take a look at his music collection.  If he’s got Liza Minelli/the Glee soundtrack, he’s gay.  Dinosaur Jr. and Panda Bear?  Totally hipster.

Questions like this one…

I’m pretty sure the lack of poo poo is the real problem here, but she should just do what I do in this situation: opt for sweats. And lay off the late night cookie-dough-with-a-spoon routine.

Oh hell no.

You hope your professor doesn’t expect you to look presentable. Hell, he should just be happy you left yourself enough time to brush your teeth. Your morning routine is always the same: you roll out of bed at 8:30, grab the first pair of sweats you can find on the floor, throw your hair into a ponytail and run out of the house. You pop into the campus coffee shop en route to lecture and grab a coffee (“Giant, please!”) and something to munch on (“Give me the butteriest bagel you’ve got back there”).

What? It’s early and you need comfort.

You slide into your seat just as the Power Point appears on the wall in front of you. If it weren’t for the food, you’d probably fall right back to sleep; you’re just so comfortable. When class is over, you go to your next class, or to the library, or home for a nap. Whichever you choose, you sport the sweats for the rest of the day: through the classes, the breaks, the meals…

You spend so much time in your sweatpants during the week, in fact, that when the weekend comes and it is time to wear something that doesn’t say “Pink” across the ass you have trouble getting into them. No, not motivating yourself to get dressed; actually getting into them. After the first few weeks of classes your clothes feel a bit snug but you can still make em work (“I must have shrunk these a bit in the dryer….”). As the semester wears on, however, putting on your going-out-jeans has become a sweaty workout.

When the pants stop moving at your thighs, you begin to pull harder. You grab the belt loops and yank, squeezing your thighs, butt and belly into the denim sausage casing. Then you jump around a bit. Then you lay on the bed and see if that helps. If you finally do get those suckers closed, you start lunging around your room, doing squats, and sitting down to see if the denim gives a little bit.

It does not, but you’ve already tried on every other pair in your closet and these fit the best. You decide they will have to do. You throw on a loose shirt on top (to camoflauge the muffin top), throw back a few more drinks and head out.

Your legs and feet begin to fall asleep at some point in the night due to decreased circulation. You have trouble bending your knees to get up the stairs to exit the bar. Your jeans nearly tear as you sit in the cab. When you finally get home and peel those things off  – and notice the deep red line across your belly – you know you’ve got to do something.

It is then that you vow never to wear sweats to class again; those elastic waistbands are far more forgiving of the donuts, the bagels and the sugary Fraps you fill yourself with on a daily basis. (Note: when sober you also realize that cutting those things out of your diet may be a good idea, too.)

We know how you feel. We’ve all had the sweat pant weight gain before. Just get up for that kickboxing class and you’ll be OK.

Ah. The good old days.

Just like the days of the Mix Tape and the VCR, baggy jeans and the sagging that came with them are over. Maybe people realized that sagging/exposing your undergarments was about as flattering as those girls with their thongs hanging out, or maybe people decided to reduce their Carbon Footprints by minimizing the amount of denim they wasted, but sometime in the last few years baggy jeans left the scene and super tight jeans made their debut.

Thank you, Pete Wentz.

Now everyone – from the super trendy to the super skater-y – is sporting the skinny jean. And I don’t need to explain to you that sagging skinny jeans is pretty much impossible. Not that I ever understood the purpose of sagging, anyway. But some people did…and thought it was necessary to bring it back, despite the obvious logistical complications.

When I shared these with my friend she simply replied, “Travis Barker will wear these.” I am pretty sure that sums it up quite nicely. These things are not only completely hideous, unflattering and totally uncomfortable-looking, but lack a purpose. What is the point?

Is there really something that wrong about simply wearing your pants at the waist or hips? Please advise.