The CuddlDud Onslaught

There is a downside to working out: CuddlDuds.

CuddlDuds ad

This ad, and near variations of it, appear with high frequency in the train stations that my train passes or stops at on the way to the gym. The ad confuses—and I’m embarrassed to say, angers—me. For the first time, I can empathize with how my dad behaves whenever somebody talks about kale, or when he has to listen to parade commentators pretend to be excited about how one of the balloon characters has personally touched their lives, or when somebody suggests that black people shouldn’t be shot by police: there’s nothing in his experience that would let him cope with those ideas, and since he’s perfect his level of experience is right, so those foreign ideas are obviously wrong and the only proper reaction to them is to yell at his family about them.

Okay, maybe I’ve got less empathy for my dad than I claimed.

But the point is: I’m confused. Is everything the model wearing a CuddlDud? Or just the pants? And if it is just the pants, how do you layer them? Do pants layer?

And do women really want to be infantilized by the name of the clothes they wear? Or are the CuddlDuds so comfortable that they won’t care.

And then there’s this bit of the ad, from the lower right corner:

CuddlDuds ad cropped

Wait, CuddlDuds are intimates?!

That confuses me even more. I mean, I barely understand my own intimate apparel. (I wear boxer-briefs, so that does add a level of complexity.) How am I supposed to comprehend these intimate CuddlDuds that are layerable and may or may not be outerwear and also might include a hat? I very rarely wear a hat when I’m in my underwear.

It’s a good thing I enjoy going to the gym, because if I didn’t, I’m not sure how I’d withstand the CuddlDud Onslaught.


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Filed under Funny, Training

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