Today, in signs of the end times: “jorjeggings,” a meta-portmanteau of the preexisting portmanteaus “jorts” and “jeggings,” are real, and coming to a store near you. Racked reported yesterday that the unfortunately named and even more unfortunate looking garment is now on sale at Bloomingdale’s. Have we really grown so unaccustomed to real pants that we refuse to wear any kind of non-stretchy fabric against our bodies? Why don’t we just give up and go about in loose-fitting, breathable mumus if we care about our precious comfort so much?

Answer: because jeggings fuckin’ rule. After wearing them almost exclusively for several months, I’m not sure I can ever go back to wearing anything less than 90% spandex around my muffin top. I am going to Bloomingdale’s the second I get off work today to buy these things in every color they come in, and then I am going to wear them to barbecues, where I will stuff my face without fear of a confined waistline. Because guess what? My friends will all be wearing them too. I just wish we could come up with a better name than “jorjeggings.” Maybe we could call them “Jorge” for short. It could be sort of fun and exotic, no? “What are you wearing to brunch tomorrow?” “Oh, probably just Jorge again. He hides the bloody Mary stains so very well.” Is that catchy at all? Maybe I’ll keep working on it.