Cycling clothes.
I approve.
Don’t get me wrong! They are weird.
Form fit, semi-form fit, crazy colors, bibs vs shorts. Definitely not your run of the mill articles of clothing. Still, they are fun and flattering if you happen to have the right body type.
I am cute in cycling clothes. *flips hair*
There is, however, one little problem.
I am of the pale persuasion.
Pale. That would be me.
My epidermis is completely unwilling to embrace the concept of tanning. Despite numerous discussions over the years, it stands firm. Tanning is simply not part of my skin’s lexicon.
Now, burning? My skin has that down to a science.
For reasons that escape me, cycling clothes like to expose arms and legs. Clearly, this was not going to work for my particular situation.
No worries! Someone thought of a solution. Enter sun sleeves. For legs.
Great idea, right? Long narrow casings that cover calf to mid-thigh and block that pesky, burn-inducing, cancer-causing, sun.
I go to order a pair.
Unisex. Huh. Okay. *looks over the size chart*
Hmmm. Those measurements put me smack dab in…extra small?
This would be what is called foreshadowing.
I am not a large women. I am not a small woman. I am…sort of a stretched-out petite. Slim, but tallish. Call it medium sized.
A tendril of apprehension did it's best to get my attention. I slapped it back.
It said unisex.
Right there. In the product description. Unisex. A guarantee by the manufacturer that the item in question was suitable for both men and women.
Order placed.
I am not the most observant creature, but over the years I have managed to notice a few little differences between men and women. One, at least in my experience, is that men tend to carry more muscle. Steve and I illustrate this pattern. Should I add here that neither of us is overweight and we’re both in reasonable shape?
One word.
Thighs.
Steve's are solid, clearly defined muscle groups. Rock hard.
Mine are firm. No squish, no pudge, just…firm.
Bear this information in mind as we go forth.
The sun legs arrive.
Cute! I slid those little white casings on and settled the elastic mid-quadricep. Bibs and jersey followed. Feeling pretty sassy, I sauntered over to the full-length mirror.
One glance nearly caused a seizure.
I was sporting two sausages where there should have been one thigh.
It took me a minute to catch my breath.
Surely…something? The light was casting funny shadows? I’d caught an off angle? My vision was going?
I risked another look.
I clutched the counter top and tried not to hyperventilate.
Those…could not possibly be my legs. 😳
Lord. Love. A. Duck.
There are a lot of things I could say here. Not one of them polite.
I suppose, it’s just possible, that somewhere on the planet there are women who don’t mind having their thighs bisected to look like two sausages?
It’s possible.
If you know one I’d like to meet her. 😐
There is no way these things were ever, ever, ever tested on women. I know this because any women would have burned them on removal.
UNISEX MY…PALE POSTERIOR!
*For anyone interested in knowing how I solved this little issue, I sized up to a small. Which I then hiked to the top of my thighs. Pretty? Not exactly. However, until I have time to orchestrate a protest on this clear violation of a women’s right to not have clothing make her legs look like sausages…it will have to do.
Donations:
No comments:
Post a Comment