So I bought some shorts last year at the end of season because they were cute and on sale and I hate shopping. You know, standard black demin-ish shorts. At least I thought they were denim until today. Not too short short either, which is something a not-as-slender-as-she-used-to-be type looks for these days, especially when everything seems to bare everything if you’re not careful. My bum likes to be firmly clothed, thank you. They even stayed at my waist when I tried them on and did the squat test. (You know what I’m talking about. No? Liar.)
Until today.
Until today I had not worn these shorts out anywhere. In fact, I’d kind of forgotten about them until I was tidying my drawers yesterday. So I put those suckers on to talk to to the grocery store because my favourites were in the laundry. Not five minutes in they start to ride up. Now, I am not a skinny girl and I have the perennial problem of thigh rub and I expected a little of this, because these didn’t have any stretch to them at all. But not like this: I tug them down thinking it’s just the initial breaking in of the shorts, but no. Cue the shorts, zipping up to my crotch as though it where an express station every time I take a step. To add insult to injury, these things do not ‘wick’ or otherwise function the way a pair of denim shorts would. Oh no, they ABSORB. So not only is there an annoying wad of fabric bunching up incessantly in my crotch no matter how awkwardly I walk or how many times I pull on the cuffs, it’s just collecting every single drop of moisture my body is producing to try and cool me off as I trudge up the cursed hill.
As soon as I got home they were off and unceremoniously wadded into the laundry hamper for washing and subsequent donation because fuck those things.