It’s the yoga pants that get me every time. Every weekday morning as I head to my car after dropping my daughter off at preschool, mentally prioritizing my to-do list for the next three blessedly child-free hours, my mind goes blank when I see the moms chatting in the parking lot. As a dad, I’m somewhat of an outsider. They’re more guarded with me, their smiles a little uncertain. Maybe they worry I’m checking them out…and they’d be right. Who can resist a woman in skin-tight lululemon heather grey, the curves of her hips, ass, and thighs delineated in exquisite detail? Pair those with a similarly curve-hugging tank top, maybe with just a hint of skin visible between the hem of her shirt and the waistline of her pants, and it’s all I can do not to drool.
That’s how the two moms standing by the SUV next to mine are dressed today. I search my memory for their names. The petite one with the blond ponytail is Vanessa and the one with the short brunette bob and the generous rack is Ellen.
“Good morning,” I say, smiling as I approach my car.