On behalf of men everywhere, I’d just like to say:

Thank you, Lululemon. You have given us yet another spectacular way of enjoying the female form. We are eternally grateful for your wonderful yoga pants, and we wish for the continued success and prosperity of your company. May this trend of hot women wearing form fitting pants never end.

I know the Lululemon controversy is more than a month old, but every time I’m at my gym, which is populated predominantly by hot soccer moms, I’m reminded of how happy I am that I live in a time when women not only have ready access to pants that makes their asses firmer, and yet simultaneously more supple, but that women enthusiastically embrace this as well.

And why shouldn’t they? Your ass never looks as good as it does in these crazy pants. It takes whatever you’re working with back there, and molds each cheek into what appears to be a perfectly round ball of delicious bread dough ready to placed into the oven. I’m tempted to try on Kristin’s while she’s not home just to see if it has the same effect on my caboose. I haven’t, of course. I don’t want to be that guy. But the point still stands.

Several weeks ago, on one of the many shitty weather weekends we’ve endured this year, Kristin and I forced ourselves to the gym early on Saturday. Kristin jumped on a treadmill near the stairwell, while I was two rows back on an elliptical machine on the other side of the room. A man walked toward the stairs, and then stopped. He stood there for a great while, and under the guise of watching one of the TVs on the wall, just ate Kristin for lunch with his eyes. He drank her in for a good 5 minutes, then reluctantly left down the stairs.

There’s no way he knew I was her husband, so he felt free to ogle her ass with impunity. And ogle it he did. Right proper. After that, I couldn’t take my eyes off her as I hadn’t really stared at the way her butt looked in those pants until I saw another guy do it. Needless to say, the time remaining on my workout became even more interminable than usual.

On the way home I said to her, “There was a guy at the gym who stood behind you for a good five minutes just gawking at your ass. After he left, another guy stared at it all slackjawed for the following 20. The second guy was me. Since you’ve started running again a lot, your ass has gotten incredible.”

Three things happened next. In the interest of decorum, I’ll spare the details on all three. However, suffice to say, that third thing was done, was done right proper. And then again once more later that afternoon.

Yoga pants, man. The greatest.