First came the “Snuggie,” which promised to revolutionize the bathrobe by wearing it backwards. Then came the “Slanket,” which promised to do the exact same thing under a different name to avoid copyright infringement. Then—in one of those leaps in human development that only arrive every evolutionary epoch—came the “Forever Lazy” outfit.
But what happens to you when you put on your “Forever Lazy”? Does it just keep you warm…or does it do oh so much more?
Step One: Make Fun of It
Whether you received it as a gag gift or bought it as a joke, initially you simply can’t take the “Forever Lazy” outfit seriously. First, it’s a onesie for adults, making it just one binky away from becoming a very disturbing fetish. Second, it actually has a “zipped hatch” in the front and back so you can go to the bathroom without ever having to remove your outfit, like an astronaut from a very poorly funded space program. And third, it celebrates lethargy in its name, making anyone who wears it seem as if they’re going to get bed sores even while walking around.
Step Two: Try It Out Just Once
No matter how often you laugh at it, though, eventually you will be compelled to put on the “Forever Lazy” outfit if only for a laugh. But the moment you zip up your “drop seat,” slide your hands into those deep pockets and experience that soft, soft fleece, something happens. You feel like a newborn baby that’s been wrapped in swaddling clothes and never, ever has any intention of becoming a productive member of society. You sense a homebound well-being that only comes from living an endless sick day away from school or work. You lie back on your couch in matching socks so small they must be for people who lost their feet to “the sugars” and you think, “This…this is where I belong.”
Step Three: Wear It Constantly Around the House
After a few days you’re no longer wearing your “Forever Lazy” outfit as a joke. In fact, except for the occasional shower or human contact, you no longer take it off at all. It’s become a second skin, like the Green Lantern’s suit if he were suddenly to give up crime fighting and spend all his days doing lottery scratch-offs and toying with the idea of adding a third lunch. Of course, by now your roommates, your spouse, even your kids will start pointing out just how often you wear the outfit until they’re holding a full-on intervention that you completely ignore because you’re too caught up in the fact you can hide whole boxes of chicken nuggets in one pocket and dipping sauces in the other.
Step Four: Make First Public Appearance in It
Eventually there will come a day when that all-important line between private shame and public display dissolves and you walk out into the world with your “Forever Lazy” outfit, reeking of confidence, increasingly insufficient bathing schedules and what appears to be an old Hot Pocket nestled in the hoodie. First you’ll go to the Walmart out of a newfound sense of brotherhood with the store’s fellow shoppers. Then you’ll visit friends, who will immediately surmise that you’ve joined a very comfortable religious cult and this is the attire you all wear when you commit ritual suicide. And then ultimately you’ll go out on your first date in it thanks to a Match.com hookup with someone whose profile featured such phrase as “I just don’t care anymore” and “At least have a face.”
Step Five: Decree It Business Attire
By now your life has completely changed (or to use your loved ones’ terminology, “bottomed out”). You no longer put on normal clothing, instead only wearing the “Forever Lazy” outfit or—on those rare occasions you wash it to diminish a combination Keystone Beer/Smores stain—a tablecloth. You now even attend senior management business meetings in your daily uniform, often without shoes and never without your emergency “spray cheese.” Soon you’re being reprimanded by your supervisor and then your supervisor’s supervisor and then that guy from the mailroom who screams what shape is persecuting him each day and who you now call “Boss.”
Step Six: Never, Ever Let It Go
Well, it’s been a life altering three-and-a-half days since you first got your “Forever Lazy” outfit. But now here you are, sound asleep on your parents’ sofa at 2 pm on a Tuesday no longer encumbered by such concerns as vanity, social acceptance, personal income, own residence, sexual relationships, future or all those other now seemingly ridiculous things that once weighed so heavily on your mind before you zipped up that fleece one-piece and happily thought, “I give up.”
Would you wear a Forever Lazy? Let us know in the comments!
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