Ode to my short shorts:
Dear short shorts, you were my trusty sidekick in college. You came from Abercrombie and had an inseam of seemingly negative five. As a young adult in the land of Florida, you freed my legs from oppressive heat, and helped me not to die in 100% humidity. Today, you sit in my drawer. As my body matures in years, I brush you aside as too young, too playful for me. And yet, you call out to me on lazy days of 98 degree weather to "throw you on" while I run to the store. You tell me to overlook your tiny nature, and your pockets that are longer than the actual shorts themselves. You draw me in with your beautiful blue color that matches perfectly with the cute shirt I would like to wear for Cinco de Mayo, and I surrender. Oh short shorts, I can't quit you. No, not just yet. It is futile to resist.
I've been sick in bed with bronchitis for the past seven days so cough medicine may have played a part in this outfit. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but I may have fallen into a common style trap: old things we continue leave in our closet, and grab when we are feeling lazy, or forget why we normally avoid them in the first place. Cooler heads have prevailed and I'll be wearing something like this outfit or this outfit to dinner tonight. Happy Cinco de Mayo!