Heaven help the poor souls of our children if we breed. They will have tiny heads and HUGE asses/thighs. A pretty accurate depiction will be something along the lines of this:
My mother has had to repair more pairs of jeans then she’d care to admit. Always the same spot….inbetween the thighs. I do not have a thigh gap if you haven’t noticed or couldn’t guess. I will NEVER have a thigh gap. Luckily, I have too many other flaws and insecurities that I focus on to really obsess over the lack of thigh gap. And I mean, what other flaws have their own theme song (Fat Bottom Girls You Make the Rockin’ World Go Round) But it does annoy me when I blow through pants.
My latest thigh rubbing explosion happened on my run a couple weeks ago. That was a first. In my defense, the pants were/are like 6 years old. My very first pair of Lululemon tights. And I love them. And I was 3 miles out into the trails when all of a sudden my inner left thigh was stinging. I looked down and the stitching had basically been worn into obliteration and disintegrated…leaving my inner thigh out in the cold. It was a nippy day with a brisk wind. And there was snow on the ground. And my feet were wet. And I really didn’t need my thigh to be exposed. And I had no other options but to turn around and head back.
That’s when I painfully was reminded why I don’t wear shorts to run. Holy chafing. I got about a mile when I stopped and looked down and the little exposed area of my thigh was bright red and a lump was already swelling up from the friction of my other little chubby thigh rubbing up against it. And there was the cold aspect… I tried to strart running again, but between the pain and the fear of future pain if I develop a nasty scab from the chaffing I stopped. A couple runners and walkers crossed paths with me and I was paranoid they could see that my fat thighs had broken free. I need to channel my inner Macgyver.
My solution was to stuff a Kleenex into the hole to prevent the chaffing. Don’t worry, I waited until the coast was clear before stuffing my hands down my pants and spreading out the tissue to completely cover the exposed skin. With the Kleenex in place I returned to jog it in, when I started passing/coming across a handful of more people. Am I being paranoid? Or are they all staring at my crotch/inner thigh? I tried to glace down while running to see just how noticeable it all was when I caught a flash of white against my solid dark grey pants…oh god. It looked like I had a maxi pad or something falling out of my pants or stuck to me or something equally embarrassing.
I spent the last 2 miles trying to pull my shirt down and shorten my stride so the maxi-pad (or Kleenex) wasn’t as noticeable. When I finally got to the car the Kleenex was pretty much already disintegrated. Now there were wee bits of white all over the crotch of my pants. Basically woven into the spandex at this point. I was pretty pleased when I finally got to my car.
So yeah, that’s how my run wrapped up. I was cold, chaffed, embarrassed, and deeply sad that my favorite tights had betrayed me. And I feel like this kinda stuff would only happen to me…of course as a foreigner. Sorry though…I did not think to take any pictures of this experience.