The Lululemon Bag is Lying to You.

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The Lululemon bag is lying to you.

It’s encouraging, shallow platitudes
suggest you could be a better person
if only you wore
more flattering pants.

It’s a comforting, condesending symbol
of your inflated morality,
a lifestyle purchased on credit
against the better judgement
of your balanced budget
and your “non-attachement” to material things.

It will encourage you
to “do something every day that scares you”
but never acknowledge
the fear of non-belonging
that sold you in the first place.

It will tell you
that friends are more important than money,
while Chip lines his pockets
with the viciously reduced overhead
of his conveniently distant ladies labour force.

It will tell you
that simply breathing is enough,
so long as you have
the outfit to match.

The Lululemon bag is lying to you.

It’s that feeling,
that gnawing in your belly,
the tickle at the back of your mind,
that something about this fabric on your skin
isn’t quite right.

Listen to it.

Open yourself up
to your honest interpretation
of this televised spectacle,
a marriage between consumerism
and our lost self esteem.

You will stand in a room
full of pre-packaged
spandex normality
and claim liberation, freedom
and individuality.

You will not find enlightenment
in the perfect pair of pants.
Just admit it –
you were probably hoping
the answer was that easy.

I know I was.