Rainbow and SM Pkwy

Okay, so you know how babies sometimes get diaper butt syndrome? Where their pants start falling down so you get a big ol' eyeful of diaper? It's super cute.

On a grown-up... not so much.

Nope, not talking about those dudes who walk around with their ass hanging out of their pants. That's to be expected and while eye-rolling worthy, not really something to clutch one's pearls over.

Yeah, no. Today I'm talking about myself.

While running.

Outside of my workplace.

Fun, right?

Oh, and another fun part to this equation. Instead of having diaper butt syndrome, picture the opposite.

Yeah, my undies decided to do the drooping and then my pants threatened to follow along. Can we say wardrobe malfunction?

I got maybe a tenth of a mile before deciding to say "screw it" and give up the hope of running today.

It wasn't worth the highbrows in the surrounding neighborhoods potentially calling the cops on me for indecent exposure. Plus I run past two schools on my route, and I'd prefer to avoid potentially scarring any children who aren't related to me.

I call Ricky to vent my frustration and he's super sympathetic.

Not really.

I can hear him struggling to keep his laughter muffled over the phone.

Thanks, babe. Love you, too. Jerk.

Standing near one of the side driveways of my office I begin huffing and pouting over the idea of going back inside already. It's too nice out.

Hello, it's not often we see the 60s in March in KC. (Attention non-climate change believers, if this isn't an indicator I don't know what is. Yes, I don't particularly enjoy the cold all the time, but it is still winter and maybe - just maybe - it should actually feel like it.)

Anyway, rather than accepting defeat I go all "Goonies never say die" and decide to walk instead.

Was it my normal three-plus miles? Definitely not.

Was I a little grumpy seeing that I walked half the distance in about the same amount of time? You betcha.

But on the positive side of things, at least I was out in the fresh air for a while. So there's that. And now I remember why I'm so picky when it comes to workout clothes. Fully functioning elastic is my friend.