Friday, August 22, 2014

Make Your Own Breeze

Heading out for a jog with my older brother at OBX. Wearing my usual summer-time running get-up. Shorts. Bra. Footwear. Smile. Deodorant. Whoops, I knew I forgot something.

Brother- "Is that what you're wearing?

umm...do I smell that bad already?

Me- "Yep, let's Rock & Roll."

Homie about to get smoked by his little sister.

Bro- "You're just going to run in your bra?"

They're just boobs.

Me- "Word."

Bro- "You don't worry about people looking at you?"

Nope.

Me- "Do I seem like the type of person who gives a damn about that?"

Bro- "Hmmf."

He lasted 3 miles, I had to run an extra 5 (practically naked!) just to rub it in. Old habits, you know.


Once you go shirtless, its hard to go back. I never used to run without a shirt, ever. I'd see women running in just their sports bras and think the same thing my older brother was probably thinking...."Put on a shirt, you hooker." I just didn't get it. Were these bra-clad chicks trying to be all hottie-hottie or was it actually about comfort?

Then, one insanely hot evening last year, I got my answer. I was out for a run and it was so hot I couldn't NOT take my shirt off. It was oppressively, impossibly hot. Like "why the HELL am I running right now?!"  hot. For the first time, I went shirtless.
 
FREE AT LAST!!

Oh my holy friggin' MOLY. Now THIS is what I'm talking about.
I had NO idea what I was missing out on by being such a covered-up prude.

The heat lifted off my skin like a foggy, sweaty veil; the breeze on my stomach and back was enough to give me a kick of runners-high right on the spot. So my "not-so-six-pack" was on display, who cares ....this is the BOMB. Like that scene in Divine Sisters of the YaYa Sisterhood (LOVE that movie), sometimes you gotta "make your own damn breeze."



Nowadays, I'm shirtless pretty much all the time. When I'm running I mean. I always wear a shirt at Kroger. And almost always at Walmart.

Anyway, I don't think I'd run in a shirt now if someone paid me. I mean unless they paid me a LOT. Like at least 5 bucks.

Sometimes, I'll start out in a tank-top, cruising through the neighborhood with Lu in the stroller. The farthest I've made it before my inevitable de-cloaking is about a half-mile. I seriously don't know how people run in shirts; now that I've joined the throngs of shirtless running mamas, it makes me sweat just to look at someone running all covered up.

The only downside so far has been a nasty little batch of poison ivy on my stomach that took, oh....2 months to totally clear up. Eh. Small potatoes.

Of course, there's my big-brother's concern..."What if someone LOOKS at you??"
If my teeny-weeny B-cup mosquito bites give some random dude a thrill, he must be really desperate.

There's only a couple weeks of summertime left ladies. Try leaving that shirt at home while its still hot. You're gonna love it.

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