Short Story

OK, so it’s your prerogative, I suppose, to wear shorts to the gym, even if your legs are so overwhelmed with cellulite that the various dimples, bumps, lumps, and fat pockets could still be seen through a rubber wet-suit. (And that goes for you, too, ladies.) I mean, hey, if you’re truly there to work out, you’ll probably get a little warm ‘n’ stuff, so it’s fine. (Well, not “fine”, but I can semi-sorta understand. Really.) But why oh why, if you wear shorts, do they have to be the very short, very loose-legged style whose leg openings flap (or flop or flip — your choice) up when you’re lying on the mats doing crunches (with bad form, I might add)? And why do you have to wear them when you know your “trainer” is going to have you lie face-up on a stretching table thing (yes, that’s the proper term) and then take one of your legs and press it up toward your nose, thus exposing a “good” (bad) third of your rump roast? I’m sorry, but I just don’t think the world needs to see your crotch foliage.
End of story.