A Skort? Really?


Let me start by telling you that a few months ago, Boyfriend and I stopped at the Nike Outlet on our way back from somewhere far enough away that we passed some outlets. Anyways, we stopped because he wanted something or other and I like to buy things.

Obviously, I’m more about “oOOoooO how cute” and less “this is so practical…” There is also a far amount of the voices in my head screaming, “SALE! DISCOUNT! BUY!”

And, so there I am tearing around the sale racks of the Nike Outlet squealing and grabbing, unsupervised mind you, when I come across this pink-orange running skirt with attached neon yellow spandex shorts. I’m not sure if I gasped audibly or if that was more of the head-voices, however when I did the extra-discount calculation (“$12.97!!! OMG TAKE MY WALLET!) I B-lined for the dressing room.

Then I bought them and took a hiatus from running.

So, this morning when I packed my running (I’m back in the game!) bag, I was anticipating it being in the 70’s by the time I was able to hit the pavement. This made it the perfect day for my adorable running skort (it says Nike Running on it, don’t judge me).

Ok, here’s the thing. If you have been blessed with thighs that touch (represent, yagirl) you are probably going to see where I am going with this in about two seconds. If your thighs don’t touch, congrats, eat a cheeseburger and go buy yourself some more boots that don’t require stretching or some new phenomenon called “wide-shaft.” (Giggle!) Seriously though, the cheeseburger…

Back to me! I’m a mile into my run when I realize those super-cute, had-to-have-but-only-on-sale spandies were riding up. This began the first of many combination waddle-tugs that involved me trying to pull my inner shorts from my crotch without tripping over the front of my feet. You might ask, why didn’t you stop? Oh, jee, the same reason you don’t pull over when picking your nose. My neon thigh wedgie could only attract more attention when stationary.

And, did I mention the chaffing? OH, the chaffing! Not only did my shorts refuse to stay down, the stubborn bitches, my blessed thighs (see also: strong, powerful) started to sting. Eff, really? Did I not learn anything after a day of walking Disney Land in a skirt? How could I forgot a pain so bad I had to sleep with a cold wash cloth pressed between the frisbee-sized swells?

It was about this point on the run that I remembered Darwin’s Theory and came to the conclusion if we did not live in an advance society I might not survive.

The worst part? I still had to GET HOME, and yes, I was strongly considering an Uber car. I was 1.5 miles from away, and run, walk – it didn’t matter. It couldn’t be avoided. My poor inner thighs could do nothing but carry me while I tried to occupy my mind with aloe lotion, ice packs and a cold shower.