There's an epidemic at the gym...

...and it is NOT pretty.

I'm not talking about gingers with too many cleavage freckles. I'm not talking about creepy young guys that wear oversize cargo pants. Though why do I feel like everyone terrible in Portland comes to my gym? Ew.

I'm talking about old men. And short shorts. These are two things that should NEVER go together. If I were more clever I'd think of two things that don't go together as an example. But I'm not. It's a shame really. You can think of something that doesn't go as a pair on your own. No, not those two, they're delicious together and you know it.

Back to the gym. There's this one guy in particular: I call him Short-Shorts. See, told you I'm not that clever. Guess what he does. Other than gross me out by wearing the same pair of super short work out shorts every day, not much of anything. Tonight at the gym? Two more men in hot pant caliber shorts. It's too much. They must see us look at them. The ole up and down with the eyes move? I know I'm not good at hiding my facial expressions. I'm very clearly rolling my eyes and trying not to laugh when I walk by. Also when I see something really bad I kind of stop breathing for a little while. It's weird, I'm not gonna lie. Maybe (probably) they think I have some kind of emotional problem. Maybe they don't get the connection. Maybe they think I'm trying to flirt with them. Guess what, I laugh at everything okay, get over yourself.

But this isn't about me. This is about the gross old men and their ridiculously hairy thighs. That is serious intel I should NOT have on multiple men that frequent my gym. They can't possibly think they look good. Do they? They can't possibly be comfortable. Short-Shorts is almost constantly tug tug tugging on the hem of his shorts in a clearly vain attempt at humility. They have something that'll solve that problem for you champ: they're called pants. Figure it out.