It was a normal run, just like any other evening, I thought. The sun was setting after a nice sunny day, bleeding pink into a few fluffed up clouds. And yet my ass did not want to stay in my leggings.
It’s a weird story to tell, I know. Trouser problems. Keep it to yourself, you’re thinking. But ladies and gents (this probably applies less to gents, to be fair… I’ll explain later), I must tell this story so that no one has to suffer an unsightly, cold, undignified exposure whilst running ever again. So no one has to bear witness, either. They can take away our dignity but they will never silence us…
So what happened, my people, was a series of unfortunate (and stupid) events. I was in a rush. I got home and I was told dinner was in the oven, I had 10 minutes. Ah. That’s not long for a run… So I changed within 30 seconds out of my jeans and into my leggings, pulling a random top on and flying out the house.
And then it started. My cheeks couldn’t stay covered, and I looked like I was having digestive issues as I constantly fiddled with my waste band, pulling my trousers up, swiveling them, trying to figure out how to make them stay. I was getting strange looks. And my crotchal region (again I’m so sorry I’m sharing this with you) was cold, airy, there was just so much room. Was I wearing men’s trousers? But no, I didn’t own any (for obvious reasons that I hope I don’t need to explain).
And then it clicked. I had put my trousers on the wrong way round. (To explain my earlier parenthesis – men, I assume such a mistake would be instantly noticeable and a little painful). So I ran home before my ten minutes were up, head hanging, my mum jabbing with a ‘that was very quick’.
Yep. If only I was quite as quick as that run, maybe tens of victims could have been spared what can only be described as a public violation and unlawful exposure.
Please, heed these words and check your trousers, before you leave the house. Before it’s too late.