War Wounds

I have a confession. Well, not really a confession but more of an admission.

I made a poor underwear choice for my first half marathon.

My husband calls them my war-torn panties. The particular panties in question are long gone, but we all have our favorite underwear. Liz Phair even wrote a song about it (sort of). So of course I thought those panties would be perfect for 13.1 miles. WRONG!

Into mile three they had settled half way up my rump. By mile four I couldn't feel anything below the waste, so no harm no foul. I crossed the finish line and headed to a friends to clean up.

They became attached. They melded with my body, becoming one with the soft tissue of my butt. And I couldn't pull them off. Like waxing your bikini very, VERY slowly. I finally hopped into the shower, underwear and all and finally peeled them off. I was left with two bleeding, racing stripes on my tuckus. I derriere looked liked a regulation major league baseball.

Best part? I had my yearly visit two days later and had to explain to my male doctor why I had huge scabs on my ass.

So why talk about this now? Because your exercise gear is as important as the exercise itself. The wrong choice in clothing can completely derail you. I have worn my fair share of Walmart brand exercise clothes and have the chafing scars to prove it.

Peekaboo! Don't hints that mean nothing to you aggravate you?

But a new addition to my blogging family has turned that around. I am beyond excited to share this partnership, but I have to wait for the mail to arrive. Squeeeeee!!!

This is a partnership that benefits you as well. Stay tuned, people.