Casualty #3: The Epic Battle Between Pants and Runner’s Thighs

You know what happens when most people run?  They get slim, lean bodies with flab-to-fab bellies, chiseled legs and arms. 

You know what happens to me when I run? Thighs.  Thighs all over.  I slimmed a tiny bit (only to toss it all back on by eating my weight in seafood on vacation and then subsequently discovering a co-worker’s chocolate cache).  But mostly I have just added epic mass to my thighs. Granted, it’s clear that the big bulge over my knee is many-miles-earned muscle rather than many-muffins-eaten fat.  My pants, however, do no know the difference and are staging a coup against me.  Everything is now too tight in the thighs.  Fitting, and even loose in the middle and over my non-existent tookus (aren’t runners supposed to have great butts?  I would settle for just having a butt…), but the fabric of my pants is stretched to the limit over the Thundering Thighs of the Tubby Trotter. 

TGISS. (Thank Goodness It’s Skirt Season).


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