It's finally warm enough for me to spend time outside without freezing to death and I actually left work on time today. Thus, when I got home, I dug out a pair of shorts and my Viva La Zvi t-shirt, laced up my sneakers, knotted my curls into a ponytail, and went for a brief run.
A couple of hours later, I took a good look at the shorts I wore.
They're black cotton, size medium. The label says "Discus." They're loose-fitting and, if the shape and stitching of the crotch is any indication, they were definitely designed with a man's anatomy in mind. The elastic band sits at my natural waistline and the hems end about three inches above my knees.
What's wrong with this picture? Working out -- sweating, turning red, getting winded -- makes me feel gross, so when I do it in public, I try to disguise the disgustingness by wearing incredibly flattering workout gear. Meaning my pants are skin-tight, my shorts are short, and my waistbands don't venture any higher than my hipbones. And today's baggy, high-waisted shorts with the mysteriously misplaced crotch seams do not fit that paradigm of hotness.
Which leads me to one regrettable conclusion: I did not purchase the shorts I'm wearing.
This in turn leads me to a second regrettable conclusion: I borrowed the shorts I'm wearing from someone and completely forgot to ever return them.
If they once belonged to you, my sincerest apologies. I'll happily send them home if you're willing to own up to them.
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