The Inventor of Yoga Pants Nobel Peace Prize Acceptance Speech

 

To be recognized for my efforts in the field of socially acceptable female body exploitation with the Nobel Peace Prize is simply overwhelming. All of those long nights of hard work and perversion have finally paid off. But before I go on, I'd first like to thank Louis Rèard, creator of the bikini, and Rudi Gernreich, creator of the thong. It's these great men that I have to thank for paving the way for men to fool women into exposing their bodies to us a little bit at a time. Without their efforts, the premise of the yoga pant would have never come to fruition. Well, at least not by me. It was inevitable that someone would've added legs to underwear.

 

But more than anyone, I'd like to thank the inventor of sweat pants. Thank you, assumed lesbian, for designing a piece of apparel that is both comfortable and unfathomably humiliating to wear in private, let alone public. Thank you for inventing a slimmer and wearable garbage bag with holes for feet. Thank you for landing on the name that you did. Just thinking about how much better your product would've done had you only changed sweat to sweet makes me want to kill myself for you. You were my inspiration to remove everything that was wrong with your product and make crazy amounts of money from it. You drew the blueprints for my success, although it was in a near illegible shade of purple jumbo crayon.

 

I'd like to thank my marketing team who ingeniously marketed the garment as “exercise” apparel, leading women everywhere to feel a false sense of accomplishment every time they slip them on. Not to mention the level of ingenuity my team has demonstrated in creating an entirely fictional workout. Through their brilliance they were able to conceive of an activity in which the participant never moves their body any faster than they would while lying in a bathtub, while at the same time believing that a significant amount of calories were burnt. It is this team who I have to thank for creating the NASCAR of exercise.

 

When I first sought out to create a lower body garment that would tightly and snugly support the buttocks of a woman, I never dreamed that my creation would coat the amount of female fannies that it has. Never would I have imagined that virtually every human being lacking a Y chromosome would slip into the removable tattoos for legs we call yoga pants. The strides we have taken as a nation due to this innovation are immeasurable. I never thought I’d live to see the day where female asses would have a visual representation that rivals the pushup bra and its imagery of cleavage. I can now comfortably say that I am responsible for the cleavage of the lower body!

 

While I am truly honored to be here tonight receiving such a prestigious award, I would be unable to live with myself if I didn't at least acknowledge the entire truth about yoga pants. That in the wrong hands (and on the even wronger ass) yoga pants cause pain and suffering for millions of people every single day. I am ashamed to say that I have led the Manhattan Project of female lower-body attire.

 

When we started testing the very first prototype, we were amazed at the amount of lift the pants created. It was truly remarkable. There was so much lift that white males and WNBA players could suddenly dunk. But then we got careless – adding more and more lift. Before we knew it we’d gone too far, and even the most undesirable and trash-bag-assed test subjects were suddenly transformed into tight-tooshed deities. If Superman were to use his x-ray vision on one of our test subjects, he’d likely mistake what he was looking at for a considerable stack of pancakes viewed from the side.

 

I’d like to take this time to hold a moment of silence for those poor souls who excitedly removed their partner’s illegally-obtained pair of yoga pants only to realize that, in a matter of seconds, the room had flooded with butt.

 

It is very unfortunate, but this is a sacrifice we as a nation must accept. For if it weren’t for the undesirables sucking up every ounce of shame, the true goddesses of the backside wouldn’t dare step outside in apparel that allows them to flaunt what thy mother hath giveth them. 

 

The path towards socially acceptable female exposure is far from over, my brothers. For one day, I hope to invent a pant that is so thin and so tight it will cause women everywhere to forget they even have them on. And then, hopefully, they’ll one day forget to put them on entirely. To objectification!

 

 
 
 
 
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