I've received my share of remarkable Christmas gifts over the years, but until yesterday none that could truly be called an epiphany. That's when I opened a package from my lovely ladyfriend Tammi Jo containing a chic fire engine red short sleeve leisure jumpsuit from the Sweet Company, celebrated jumpsuiters to the stars.
Of course I squealed with delight. But as I walked behind the storage shed to try it on, I couldn't help having trepidations. Did I have what it takes to join the Order of Jumpsuit? Was my hinder worthy of the elegant scroll "Sweet" label on this fine garment's hip pocket? Such fears were quickly put to rest as I slipped it on and discovered that to wear the jumpsuit is to be the jumpsuit. And as I affixed the golden clasp on its built-in elastic belt, it was clear that my pants-wearing days were a thing of the past.
Something about being clad in a jumpsuit gives a man renewed confidence, a glint in his eye, a virile take-charge swagger. I ordered Tammi Jo to the TV room to watch her story shows while I prepared our traditional Christmas brunch of tamales, pineapple, and tequila. Later on, after Judge Judy, she "showed her appreciation," if you "know what I mean." Which is "sex." She of course insisted I keep the jumpsuit on.
Control yourself, gals! I've already got a common law wife. But you can have the next best thing: get that special fella in your life a spiffy jumpsuit. Your man will learn the one-piece secret I now share with Jack Lalanne, Super Dave Osborne, Jesus Quintana, Devo, and thousands of dancing Filipino prison inmates and evil henchmen: nothing stops a man in a jumpsuit.*
*sock monkey sold separately
A Jumpsuity Yule to all,
The Iowahawks
