This is seriously as close as I will probably ever get to starring in a porno. I invite you to the mini-documentary of part of the Marathon Outfit.
{A sunny October Monday...}
Single Gal: I am ordering my Race Ready shorts today. What size are yours?
Housewife: Medium.
Single Gal: Thanks! Mine are now on the way!
{A few days later...}
Single Gal: I am holding these shorts up that just came in the mail and they look really small. Are you sure yours are a medium?
Housewife: Yes. I just went and checked mine.
Single Gal: Well, ok. I guess mine will be fine then.
---------------
So, I try on these shorts. They. Are. Outrageous. And, they really don't look like the ones The Housewife usually wears. Basically, my ass is hanging out. But it's kinda too late to send them back and they fit in the waist so I figure I will just deal.
(Please keep in mind I have shelved my dignity for your entertainment this week.)
I know what you are thinking -- "Single Gal--those really aren't that bad. Why are you freaking out?"
Why am I freaking out? Let's just think about this photo. This is how exposed I am when I am not moving at all. Just me being still. In tiny shorts.
And just for extra emphasis -- That. Is. My. Ass. Hanging. Out. Of. My. Shorts. They really, really, really don't look like the Race Ready shorts that The Housewife has.
{Flash Forward -- Our Saturday Run}
Single Gal: Housewife, my shorts seriously don't look like yours! WTH?!
Housewife: Ooohhhh! You got the Kenyan kind!
Single Gal: I take it yours are not the Kenyan kind?
Housewife: No.
{And, end scene.}
Sars for my dirty, streaked mirror in those photos. Life has been busy lately--I haven't even had time to prep any other Vegas outfits. I guess if I get in a bind, I can throw these shorts on with some heels and gain entry into any club I want with no problems...
Oh. and I am also sorry if this post has emotionally scarred you for life.
Love you. Mean it.
~the single gal~
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