How to buy shorts.

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I have the opposite of body dysmorphia, a fact I discovered today in my quest to buy a pair of shorts.

You see, a few months ago I sat sitting on the couch, reading emails on the iPad next to Mr. Woog, when I got an email alerting me to a ridiculous deal for 7 nights in Bali, including flights etc.

Casually, I mentioned to Mr. Woog that I was thinking of taking up this offer, just me by myself. Perhaps I could find a mate to go with?

He watching the moto-cross and grunted something that I took as a yes, so clickety click, I booked.

So I leave tomorrow, and all I can think about is the heat, and the dreaded chafe that comes along with it. There was only one answer.


So off to the shops I went this morning, with Jack in tow as he is the best person to shop with, because he is very honest in his appraisal. I had done a little scouting around on the net, to see what shops had shorts. I found this online at Country Road, so that was my first port of call.

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And because of my reverse body dysmorphia, I thought that I would totally look like that chick in them. Turns out I was very, very wrong…..

The sales assistant was very helpful, and proceeded to fetch all the sorts in the store. These ones made my front bum particularly starving….

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While these, well I was a sight for sore eyes…

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It was positively GAG WORTHY! I started to get desperate. I thanked the lady at the CR store and explained that I just wasn’t made for shorts.

As I left, deep down I knew that I would have to get some, somewhere. For I was reminded of a holiday I took years and years ago, with The Divine Ms M and the Artist Formally known as Mrs Finlayson.

You see we had gone to Phuket and on the first day engaged in some vigorous walking around, wearing a skirt. That night, Mrs Finlayson and I came down with a case of thigh chafe the like of which had never been seen before. I also had the added bonus of chafe causing horrendous blisters in between my big toe, and the one that sits along side of it.

The next morning, the situation hadn’t gotten any better, but I was slightly less fried than Mrs Finlayson, so along with The Divine Ms M, I wandered out to find some shorts for myself and my fellow victim. Now, because I was burning like someone had thrown a vat of acid on my crotch, and limping like a mofo, we had to find a solution fast. I was also wearing socks and sandals along with a pair of happy pants.

You ever been shopping on the streets of Phuket?


To which I wanted to reply… “Oh just fuck off…” but I couldn’t. Turned out the big size was the equivalent of a size 10, so our search continued.

We arrived back at the resort with two pairs of beige shorts, purchased from the men’s section of some dodgy department store. We both spent two days in those shorts, as we began to recover. The Divine Ms. M’s mother was consulted over the phone for a remedy for a speedier recovery, only to be told that if we put talcum powder onto the area, it could travel up into our fannies and we would get cancer.

So this is why I needed shorts urgently. I did not want a repeat of that holiday.

Eventually I went into Myer and found a huge range of denim shorts. I scooped up a few and tried them on for Jack, who sat there wisely and told me that they all looked dorky. I told him that one of them had to be better than the others. Eventually he chose a plain pair of dark Levi’s, that thankfully didn’t give me camel toe.

If you can recommend a certain brand of shorts, please share so no one has to go though my recent experience.

Thank you.