Ass Crack and Coffee

Men in general have little fashion sense, and often lose whatever sense they had after procreation. And fathers do not, in general, grow up very well. They continue to retell ad nauseam their athletic, automotive, and sexual exploits. And like the fish that gets away, these stories grow with each retelling. But in at least one area fathers seem to do a better job than mothers—they don’t squeeze their aging and increasingly soft bodies into teen fashions.*

Case in point: low-rise jeans. Very few women old enough to drink alcohol look good in low-rise jeans, and even fewer women who have counted the ceiling tiles in a delivery room.

There are many problems with low-rise jeans. The most common complaint (usually uttered by other women rather than men) is the infamous muffin top. But the real sin is the “plumber’s crack,” that gaping ass crack that peaks or more often gapes over the waist of some pair of low-rise jeans. Let’s be honest, outside of a few intimate encounters, nobody wants to see another person’s ass crack.

The other day I was drinking coffee in a local cafe when two moms walked in pushing the little ones in strollers. They sat down in at the table in front of me. I reached up to get my coffee only to find myself confronted by a healthy dose of cottage cheese and ass crack. Although the one mom was merely sitting there, her jeans were riding down so low that it was obscene. Not just a hint of crack and cheese, but a full plate load of both. If she had leaned forward at all, I’m sure I could have told you whether or not she shaved. I don’t know if she was ignorant of her vertical smile or if she thought it was somehow attractive, but it wasn’t. An increasingly sweaty, lint filled ass that has probably visited to toilette at least a couple times during the day is anything but sexy. In fact, it’s disgusting.

Maybe, like much fashion, women are dressing for women here. Maybe, just maybe, women enjoy seeing another woman’s ass crack, but I doubt it. These women can’t be dressing for men. Men who aren’t immature (usually balding and overweight) twits certainly don’t enjoy looking down some woman’s pants. So do everybody a favor and cover up your ass.

There seem to be two options. First, buy pants that fit. This would require that you stop shopping at stores that cater to teen fashion. Your are no longer a teenager, so you shouldn’t be there unless you are shopping for your daughter. So grow up and act your age. Second, if you insist that low-rise jeans are all you can find or for some reason “fit” better, then wear a blouse or shirt that is long enough to reach your jeans, even when you are sitting.

Don’t spoil somebody’s coffee by flashing your crack all over the place.

*Please note, this is not a screed against getting old and soft. Everybody grows old, gets soft, becomes wrinkly, loses hair (or grows hair in unwelcome places), and parts of the body start to sag, parts that previously seemed to defy gravity. That’s life, or rather the slow and inevitable process of dying. Along with those changes comes a beauty that teenagers, 20-somethings, and many 30-somethings don’t have. That’s the price of being young. If they live long enough, they too might be beautiful one day. But not for many years.

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Resurrecting Main Line Dads (redux)

Like throwing biscuit dough at the wall to see what sticks, different versions of this blog have been thrown at the internet a few times to see if it will stick. So far nothing. I’m now tossing another ball of blog dough and thinking about throwing it at the wall to see if it will stick. This post inaugurates yet another version of Main Line Dads with a summary of what you can expect here.

First: this is not a parenting blog. While I am a parent (a dad), I have no intention of or qualifications for dispensing parenting advice. Like most people, I am scarring my children in ways I don’t intend and probably can’t even imagine (along with all the ways I can imagine).

Second: this is not a blog about how to be a dad. There are lots of dad blogs out there, some dedicated to preserving some modicum of sports-loving masculinity, some devoted to being a modern, sensitive dad, and others focused on how to pick out the best parent-oriented, child-protecting, father-appropriate gear. Those blogs all provide a service and some excellent reading. If you want to know which diaper bag will preserve and project your tender-masculinity at the next party for 2-year-olds, turn to one those blogs.

Third: many of these posts will offer some critique, will be critical, and might even verge on the vitriolic. I intend to use this space to reflect on how people are parents: how they treat their children, their spouses, and the people around them. My own experiences and behavior will share the stage with observations of other parents.

Fourth: many of the observations will contrast how fathers and mothers behave, toward each other, toward their children, and toward other parents. I am intrigued by the different expectations and standards applied to moms and dads.

Finally, I am not a perfect or probably even a particularly good dad. But simply because I live in glass house will not deter me from throwing stones, at myself or at others. I hope to offer a cocktail of self criticism (and at times loathing) along with social commentary and, occasionally, condemnation.