I want you back. Not the buck teeth and
the home perm, but the bike shorts. I know you are going to find this
hard to believe, but in 2015, we don’t wear bike shorts to go biking
anymore. We wear them to TRAIN for things. Scary things with names
like Insanity, BODYATTACK, and Pure Torture. (Just kidding
on the Pure Torture. Not really.)
Recently, I had the pleasure of trying on a
pair of Nike compression training shorts. They rose about two inches
above my pubic bone (which is about three inches below my muffin top, in case
you are wondering). I guess Nike designed them with belly dancing in
mind? And the inseam - well, let’s just say that a bikini wax would not
be optional. See in 2015, it's not enough to just pull on a pair of
lycra/cotton bike shorts, the kind you’d find in 1987, shorts that gently
SUPPORT AND COVER you from belly button to far upper knee. No, in 2015 we
have to drag our lazy butts to workout looking like escapees from the Playboy
Mansion. ‘Cause nothing’s more fun than down dog when you're staring at
your bulbous mound of belly fat. Ho ho ho.
I didn’t buy the shorts, btw.
