Even Though I Totally Wore Do-Rags in Tenth Grade, The Do-Rag Statute of Limitations Has Got To Be Over By Now

I went through this stage in junior high and high school were I wore shorts every day. I wore them for all occasions. Cut-offs, walking shorts, GOD HELP ME a snazzy little pair of velvet ones for those formal events. I even went through a particularly bizarre and ugly stage where I wore cut-offs over dark suntan colored panty hose.

I really was the sex goddess of the eighth grade.

But since high school I have gained new self awareness. A self awareness that brought to my attention that I have funky looking knees and they should never be seen in the light of day.

And so I haven't worn shorts outside of my home in like ten years. Not if it is ninety degrees. Not even if there is no breeze. Not even if you beg PLEASE (Dr. Seuss moment). I think the world deserves a AB weird knee-less existence.

Until a couple of weeks ago that is. It was approximately eighty-four thousand degrees and we were playing softball and I caved and bought a pair of work out shorts (lest y'all think I am not serious I didn't even own a pair of shorts). I would like to note that I wore those shorts for the first time at the game that I took the ball to the thigh. The universe telling me that it has seen enough of my thighs? Yes, I think so.

Since then I have continued to wear the shorts for our games--it is still summer after all and since I don't slide (really, I keep meaning to learn since my youth coach taught us the head first slide which is both stupid and gets your hair dirty so no) there is no real danger.

I just have to figure out a way to tell other people that I know I look bad. I am not kidding myself. I do not look like the cute gals on my team or other teams--the kind with fabulous legs who just look natural in their shorts. I look ridiculous and short and even less athletic than before (if that is possible). I've decided that not getting heat stroke is worth that but I would really like to prevent people from having, "that poor dear, I wonder if she knows," thoughts about me.

I do know.

I am not like the girl on the team last week who was wearing a DO-RAG unironically. She sure as fuck didn't know.

Everyone stare at her for a while.