Well, I am officially on the roster of participants for The Great American Apparel Diet. I'm really excited about joining, and am looking forward to seeing where all this leads. Here's the link to my first post on the GAAD website:
Hola from Buenos Aires, Argentina (by way of D.C. and L.A.)
I am enjoying reading the posts from other readers on the diet because I don't feel so alone. There are other people in the world who buy way the hell too many clothes! It takes the guilt away. I've found that guilt makes me feel worse about myself, which makes me want to shop as a way to lick my wounded ego.
Another thing that came up for me is the whole "diet" idea. Again, another way to feel guilty. Seriously, who loves dieting? Who thinks it's fun? How sustainable is it throughout one's life? I prefer to call this a cleansing exercise or regimen, or maybe even a gratitude exercise. Gratitude for the abundance you already have.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
The Few, The Proud, The Recovering
Turns out there is more than just the Six Items or Less movement and The Great American Apparel Diet (GAAD). There's the Thirty for Thirty challenge, and Week without Stuff . Frugality is now chic, but I think that there's something in the air that is making many people--in the States mostly, it seems--re-evaluate their relationship to their stuff, whether it be clothing, in my case, or just over-abundance in their homes, in general. This heightened awareness currently prompting people to try these material diets on for size can be exciting and fun, even for people who don't have to be on a limited budget. I believe it gives people who were once, or have a tendency to be, spenders and over-consumers the opportunity to exercise their creativity and to be grateful for all that they already have. Of course, I say this now, as I'm in the throes of a consciousness love-fest. Talk to me when I happen to be in the States just in time for a Nordstrom sale.
I've taken this just a little bit futher. In addition to applying to be a part of the GAAD yesterday, I also signed up for the on-line Spenders-Debtors Anonymous, and am looking forward to attending face-to-face meetings when I'm back in the States. I like the whole Anonymous movement, and the idea of surrendering and seeking strength through a Higher Power--however He/She/It may look--jives with my Roman Catholic upbringing, even though the Church as an institution has long lost its appeal. Also, my experience as a tag-along with an Alcoholics Anonymous member and my own experience in Sexual Abuse Survivors in Recovery Anonymous were nothing but positive and motivating. So, I figured that if I were really serious walking my psychotherapeutic-clean living talk, I should really get all areas of my life together, even the parts that I am most reluctant to acknowledge to myself.
I have been a debtor, meaning I possess the ability for amassing enormous amounts of debt within a short amount of time I am also, mostly defnitely, a champion spender, a gold-medal consumer. Although, my spending won't be setting any records, the fact that my habits are not giving me the rush that it once did suggests strongly that I've crossed the line somewhere between my last Calvin Klein dress and my fabulous 30-dollar, vintage 70's leather trench coat aquisition from the Goodwill. And, yes, just because thriftstores are my regular stomping ground doesn't mean that I'm any less of a consumer. Thrifting can add up very quickly, especially when you can spot an incredible, vintage 80's Valentino blazer for ten bucks from across the parking lot at the Melrose Trading Post in Los Angeles (Yes, my radar is THAT good.)
So, how the hell did I get this way?
After hundreds of dollars and hours spent (wisely--really, probably THE wisest purchase and best investment I have ever made) in therapy with my amazing psychoanalyst in the States over the last 10 years, nights of journaling and dreaming, and journaling my dreaming, I've figured out a thing or two: 1) Instead of saying apologizing for any hurts, just buy something, and 2) To avoid any kind of confrontation or war, go shopping. In a nutshell, this has been my dynamic with my mother. Since my mother and I have been on the outs in the last year, and since my family of origin has been reconfigured, guess what?! I went shopping! They don't call it Retail Therapy for nothing!
The good news is that after getting myself out of a credit bind several years go, I requested a relatively manageable credit level, just enough to buy an economy class plane ticket back to the States in case of a family emergency. The bad news is that every purchase pushed me further into the Black Hole of Shame and Self-Loathing (not to mention limiting greatly my ability to see exactly what was in my bloated wardrobe). Been there (one too many times), done that, and am ready to move on to being grateful for everything I have.
I've taken this just a little bit futher. In addition to applying to be a part of the GAAD yesterday, I also signed up for the on-line Spenders-Debtors Anonymous, and am looking forward to attending face-to-face meetings when I'm back in the States. I like the whole Anonymous movement, and the idea of surrendering and seeking strength through a Higher Power--however He/She/It may look--jives with my Roman Catholic upbringing, even though the Church as an institution has long lost its appeal. Also, my experience as a tag-along with an Alcoholics Anonymous member and my own experience in Sexual Abuse Survivors in Recovery Anonymous were nothing but positive and motivating. So, I figured that if I were really serious walking my psychotherapeutic-clean living talk, I should really get all areas of my life together, even the parts that I am most reluctant to acknowledge to myself.
I have been a debtor, meaning I possess the ability for amassing enormous amounts of debt within a short amount of time I am also, mostly defnitely, a champion spender, a gold-medal consumer. Although, my spending won't be setting any records, the fact that my habits are not giving me the rush that it once did suggests strongly that I've crossed the line somewhere between my last Calvin Klein dress and my fabulous 30-dollar, vintage 70's leather trench coat aquisition from the Goodwill. And, yes, just because thriftstores are my regular stomping ground doesn't mean that I'm any less of a consumer. Thrifting can add up very quickly, especially when you can spot an incredible, vintage 80's Valentino blazer for ten bucks from across the parking lot at the Melrose Trading Post in Los Angeles (Yes, my radar is THAT good.)
So, how the hell did I get this way?
After hundreds of dollars and hours spent (wisely--really, probably THE wisest purchase and best investment I have ever made) in therapy with my amazing psychoanalyst in the States over the last 10 years, nights of journaling and dreaming, and journaling my dreaming, I've figured out a thing or two: 1) Instead of saying apologizing for any hurts, just buy something, and 2) To avoid any kind of confrontation or war, go shopping. In a nutshell, this has been my dynamic with my mother. Since my mother and I have been on the outs in the last year, and since my family of origin has been reconfigured, guess what?! I went shopping! They don't call it Retail Therapy for nothing!
The good news is that after getting myself out of a credit bind several years go, I requested a relatively manageable credit level, just enough to buy an economy class plane ticket back to the States in case of a family emergency. The bad news is that every purchase pushed me further into the Black Hole of Shame and Self-Loathing (not to mention limiting greatly my ability to see exactly what was in my bloated wardrobe). Been there (one too many times), done that, and am ready to move on to being grateful for everything I have.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Narrowing Down the 6
I spent this Sunday morning trying to figure out how to look cute for a month, using 6 pieces of clothing. I am stumped.
Previous participants and many people who have signed up for the next round have settled for a color uniform of black and white, or neutral colors. I am not a neutral person. Orange makes me happy. Turquoise is one of my favorite colors. Emerald green is gorgeous. Strong colors look best on me, and I'd rather die than wear beige. Black is always beautiful, but I don't want to feel like I'm going to a funeral for a month. How do I choose???
Assuming that this challenge will begin in December, how can I manage to create a 6-piece wardrobe that is festive, travel friendly, and good for multi-weather situations? We're just entering summertime here in South America, so I want something comfortable and light that I can also layer to keep me from freezing in air-conditioned restaurants and movie theaters in Buenos Aires. However, layering these pieces really won't give me enough protection against the elements, should our Christmas holiday road trip take us to Calafate to see the famous Perrito Moreno, the Argentine glacier, for example, where temperatures vary currently between 2 and 20 degrees celsius. I will freeze my balls off. Two layered sundresses and a pair of jeans isn't going to cut it there, even with a thick jacket, and adding a thick sweater to my pile of everyday-wear will prevent me from including something I really need and want to have for the whole month, like a colorful t-shirt. A puzzlement indeed.
The good thing is that I can accessorize to my hearts content. I have my trusty multi-colored orange scarf I always manage to bring with me on trips to use as a cover-up, shawl, or scarf, and I've already set aside a bunch of colorful baubles and funky belts to jazz things up. Looking at this selection made me think that I could probably recycle or regift many of the accessories I've accumulated. But...I'll think about tomorrow.
Previous participants and many people who have signed up for the next round have settled for a color uniform of black and white, or neutral colors. I am not a neutral person. Orange makes me happy. Turquoise is one of my favorite colors. Emerald green is gorgeous. Strong colors look best on me, and I'd rather die than wear beige. Black is always beautiful, but I don't want to feel like I'm going to a funeral for a month. How do I choose???
Assuming that this challenge will begin in December, how can I manage to create a 6-piece wardrobe that is festive, travel friendly, and good for multi-weather situations? We're just entering summertime here in South America, so I want something comfortable and light that I can also layer to keep me from freezing in air-conditioned restaurants and movie theaters in Buenos Aires. However, layering these pieces really won't give me enough protection against the elements, should our Christmas holiday road trip take us to Calafate to see the famous Perrito Moreno, the Argentine glacier, for example, where temperatures vary currently between 2 and 20 degrees celsius. I will freeze my balls off. Two layered sundresses and a pair of jeans isn't going to cut it there, even with a thick jacket, and adding a thick sweater to my pile of everyday-wear will prevent me from including something I really need and want to have for the whole month, like a colorful t-shirt. A puzzlement indeed.
The good thing is that I can accessorize to my hearts content. I have my trusty multi-colored orange scarf I always manage to bring with me on trips to use as a cover-up, shawl, or scarf, and I've already set aside a bunch of colorful baubles and funky belts to jazz things up. Looking at this selection made me think that I could probably recycle or regift many of the accessories I've accumulated. But...I'll think about tomorrow.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Becoming a Sixer
I have way too many clothes. Like, can-barely-close-my-closet-doors too many clothes. I love fashion. I love style. I love looking at fashionable people. I love the craftsmanship that I see in a beautifully-made garment, and if I can get it at a discount (or can grab a really decent likeness of it at an H&M, Forever21, or thriftstore), you can bet that puppy is going in my closet.
Clearly, my love for all things sartorial is boundless, but my closets are woefully finite. What is a girl to do? Same thing I do when my jeans are getting a wee bit snug. Restrict myself for a time. Not punishment, mind you. Just an exercise in self-control, keeping in mind that at the end of the sentenc...er...challenge, I'll look and feel better in my clothes.
So, I've been checking out the Six Items or Less and the Great American Apparel Diet for the past couple of days. I really should take the leap and do the apparel diet that forbids indulging retail therapy for 1. Whole. Freaking. Year. But, you know, Christmas is coming up, and I'm going to the States in February, and...well, I am, fo sho, going to fall off the wagon because I have ZERO self-control.
Living in Argentina should be fantastic for my pocket book because the clothes aren't well-made, aren't my style, and tend get ruined after a few rounds in the washing machine, even in the cold, gentle cycle sans dryer. But going back home, well, it's like holding a big chili burger from Tommy's under the nose of a vegan. No matter what my good intentions are, I'm going to fall off the wagon and have chili dribbling down my chin in 2 seconds. I've become an even bigger consumer since I started living here, and all the .com shops have become my closest internet companions. Not. Good.
Six Items or Less, a challenge started by two friends in the States earlier this year, seems to me a way to take stock of my consumerism and fashion addiction on a limited scale. Check out this video the NYTimes on Six Items or Less:
http://video.nytimes.com/video/2010/07/22/style/1247468489339/six-items-or-fewer.html
I can do 1 month with a mere 6 articles of clothing. I can do anything for a month! I'm no wimp! I am woman! I'm stylish! I can accessorize!
One of the requirements for signing up to be a Sixer is to blog about my experience on their website, so stay tuned for my briefs (which, thank goodness, are not limited!)
Clearly, my love for all things sartorial is boundless, but my closets are woefully finite. What is a girl to do? Same thing I do when my jeans are getting a wee bit snug. Restrict myself for a time. Not punishment, mind you. Just an exercise in self-control, keeping in mind that at the end of the sentenc...er...challenge, I'll look and feel better in my clothes.
So, I've been checking out the Six Items or Less and the Great American Apparel Diet for the past couple of days. I really should take the leap and do the apparel diet that forbids indulging retail therapy for 1. Whole. Freaking. Year. But, you know, Christmas is coming up, and I'm going to the States in February, and...well, I am, fo sho, going to fall off the wagon because I have ZERO self-control.
Living in Argentina should be fantastic for my pocket book because the clothes aren't well-made, aren't my style, and tend get ruined after a few rounds in the washing machine, even in the cold, gentle cycle sans dryer. But going back home, well, it's like holding a big chili burger from Tommy's under the nose of a vegan. No matter what my good intentions are, I'm going to fall off the wagon and have chili dribbling down my chin in 2 seconds. I've become an even bigger consumer since I started living here, and all the .com shops have become my closest internet companions. Not. Good.
Six Items or Less, a challenge started by two friends in the States earlier this year, seems to me a way to take stock of my consumerism and fashion addiction on a limited scale. Check out this video the NYTimes on Six Items or Less:
http://video.nytimes.com/video/2010/07/22/style/1247468489339/six-items-or-fewer.html
I can do 1 month with a mere 6 articles of clothing. I can do anything for a month! I'm no wimp! I am woman! I'm stylish! I can accessorize!
One of the requirements for signing up to be a Sixer is to blog about my experience on their website, so stay tuned for my briefs (which, thank goodness, are not limited!)
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
My Review of Salutation Legging
The ankle-length Salutation Legging features stylish center back gathers and flat locked seams to discourage skin irritation. Leggings like the Salutation are ideal for yoga; with a sleek silhouette, your instructor can ensure the body is in proper alignment.
- Inseam: 27.5" ...
Comfy leggings!
By doctore ie from Buenos Aires, Argentina on 6/15/2010
Pros: Comfortable, Allows Free Movement, Don't cut into my waist
Best Uses: Yoga, Gym, Casual Wear, Cold Weather
Describe Yourself: Casual/ Recreational
I'm always wary when ordering pants/leggings on-line. These, though, were fit perfectly right out of the bag!. I got these in blue and black in a Small. They're very comfortable, and the waistband doesn't dig into my waist to give me a muffin top. Always a plus in my book. It gives me a nice smooth look. I like the ruching at the top of my butt and the ankles. They are maybe just an inch too long to see the ruching at the ankles, but that's OK. FYI, I'm 5'3 1/2" with a 28 inch waist. I usually wear an XS/4 in Lucy bottoms. Great basic piece, decent price.
(legalese)
Monday, June 14, 2010
Just When I Thought I Was Over You...
So, I just spent about 5 minutes cruising through Zappo's bag selection to calm my nerves. There's nothing like a little bit of retail therapy, even if it's window shopping, to temporarily soothe my soul.
Who has ruffled my beautifully preened feathers, you ask? Who has raised my hackles and made me bear my claws and fangs, you wonder? My ex-husband of 9 years. I've done my "work" and paid my dues as far as my ex-marriage is concerned. A couple of years of intense analysis, sifting through parental issues, playing the field and replaying the same patterns in new relationships, journaling, keeping track of my dreams, bitching to girlfriends, wishing my ex peace and happiness, and letting him go, and, of course, googling him and checking out his Facebook page (closed to non-friends, of course...oh, come on, I know you've check out your exes FB pages.) to see if he managed to survive and thrive without me. Dude. I've been there and done that, and I was sooo way over it.
So, it surprised me how irritated and angry I became when our "escribano" (sorta like a lawyer/notary/witness/know-it-all here in Argentina) mentioned that I needed to provide the name of my ex-husband and copy of our divorce decree so he could finalize the documents for this new pad I'm buying here in Buenos Aires. It's my very first piece of property ever, so you can imagine my excitement when I signed the first batch of papers. I didn't know that my little piece of security and independence way the hell down south of the equator would be forever linked in permanent ink to a man I divorced 9 years ago.
The purpose of all this exchange of info is to state formally and legally that we don't owe each other anything because we're through with each other. Intellectually, I get the point, and find it reasonable to a very limited extent. However, the thought of seeing his name on a document that entitles me to my first piece of property, even if it is just an apartment from the 1970's that needs a serious paint job (but has a fabulous view, 1 1/2 remodeled bathrooms, and other wonderful possibilities!), irks me. It's like he's trespassing on my property, and the only thing I want to do is to unleash my 10 big, hungry dobermans and breakout my shotgun. I know it's totally un-zen of me, and I need to, you know, go do about an hour of yoga, perform some kind of active imagination-letting-go ritual, and probably shell out some money to talk to my analyst to process this stuff...again...but, damn, I need to check in with this bitchy, territorial side of me 'cause she needs some air time.
Sifting through all the divorce papers and having to scan them in one by one to send to the escribano was like opening an old wound and inadvertently getting some salt in it. Sucks, man. The thing is, I don't really harbor any anger at him any more. We just weren't right for each other (OK, and how many people were, like, "Are you SUUURE you want to marry him?" before I married him...note to self and future generations: if most of your good friends and acquaintances are asking you stuff like this, you probably want to start re-evaluating your decision.), and now he's remarried to someone who fits the bill.
So, if I'm supposedly at peace somewhat with all of that, what's with the anger? I didn't get a fancy degree and go through years of therapy to not know, y'all. I've realized that I didn't have the energy, money, or balls at the time to undergo a legal battle with my ex, who is a lawyer and whose lawyerliness came through loud and clear during the last few weeks of our short-lived marriage. Because of the guilt I felt for what I did and didn't do, and because of the guilt I felt for being relieved and so darn excited about the possibilities my new life as a singleton would hold for me, I believed I didn't rate what I was legally entitled to, which remains a mystery to me to this day. If I asked around, I'd probably discover that I just walked away from a decent-sized chunk of a settlement without a sound. It wouldn't have been a lot, but, most likely, it would have been a bit than what I ended up getting, which amounted to roughly $9,000.
The nice, guilt-ridden, Catholic girl in me asks: Did I deserve what little I got? Was he right for not giving me more? Maybe he WAS being generous. Maybe I didn't deserve anything at all. But the clawed and fanged part of me, the part that, thankfully, always helps me see through my own crap and opens doors for me answers: Oh, HELLLLLLS NO.
One of the things that my ex got out of the settlement...like he got almost everything...were 2 Greek icons painted in the traditional style with egg tempera and gold leaf. We had gotten them on a trip to Greece, and they had cost quite a lot. They were two of the pieces that I really loved in our house full of art that we had bought in our 5 year relationship together. I remember going back into the house after I had moved out to take one of the icons--the one of Eve stepping out of a sleeping Adam--but I stopped myself because, of course, I felt guilty. Man, guilt just puts a damper on all the fun, doesn't it?
6 years later, I found myself on the same island in Greece where I bought the icons. I told my partner (who is, thankfully, still my partner! Yay!) that I was on a mission to find this workshop and buy something, anything, from it. So, I walked and sweated for an hour or two until I turned a corner and found the little studio where they continued to create those beautiful icons. I bought the least expensive, but most beautiful one I could find (a whopping 70 Euro...dang, they're expensive), and felt vindicated. This one, this little 4x6" icon of an archangel, is mine and no one else's.
It's the same feeling I know I will have when I sign these papers. This property will be mine, and mine alone. Even though my ex's name will figure somewhere in the deed, maybe--because I'm just too lazy to read through all the legalese in Spanish--I'll just reimage his name into a sort of benchmark or sign post.. It would be as if it were saying, "See your ex's name? This is where you were and what you had with him. Now, see your signature at the bottom of the page? This is what you have without him...and it's a whole heck of a lot more than you could ever have imagined."
Who has ruffled my beautifully preened feathers, you ask? Who has raised my hackles and made me bear my claws and fangs, you wonder? My ex-husband of 9 years. I've done my "work" and paid my dues as far as my ex-marriage is concerned. A couple of years of intense analysis, sifting through parental issues, playing the field and replaying the same patterns in new relationships, journaling, keeping track of my dreams, bitching to girlfriends, wishing my ex peace and happiness, and letting him go, and, of course, googling him and checking out his Facebook page (closed to non-friends, of course...oh, come on, I know you've check out your exes FB pages.) to see if he managed to survive and thrive without me. Dude. I've been there and done that, and I was sooo way over it.
So, it surprised me how irritated and angry I became when our "escribano" (sorta like a lawyer/notary/witness/know-it-all here in Argentina) mentioned that I needed to provide the name of my ex-husband and copy of our divorce decree so he could finalize the documents for this new pad I'm buying here in Buenos Aires. It's my very first piece of property ever, so you can imagine my excitement when I signed the first batch of papers. I didn't know that my little piece of security and independence way the hell down south of the equator would be forever linked in permanent ink to a man I divorced 9 years ago.
The purpose of all this exchange of info is to state formally and legally that we don't owe each other anything because we're through with each other. Intellectually, I get the point, and find it reasonable to a very limited extent. However, the thought of seeing his name on a document that entitles me to my first piece of property, even if it is just an apartment from the 1970's that needs a serious paint job (but has a fabulous view, 1 1/2 remodeled bathrooms, and other wonderful possibilities!), irks me. It's like he's trespassing on my property, and the only thing I want to do is to unleash my 10 big, hungry dobermans and breakout my shotgun. I know it's totally un-zen of me, and I need to, you know, go do about an hour of yoga, perform some kind of active imagination-letting-go ritual, and probably shell out some money to talk to my analyst to process this stuff...again...but, damn, I need to check in with this bitchy, territorial side of me 'cause she needs some air time.
Sifting through all the divorce papers and having to scan them in one by one to send to the escribano was like opening an old wound and inadvertently getting some salt in it. Sucks, man. The thing is, I don't really harbor any anger at him any more. We just weren't right for each other (OK, and how many people were, like, "Are you SUUURE you want to marry him?" before I married him...note to self and future generations: if most of your good friends and acquaintances are asking you stuff like this, you probably want to start re-evaluating your decision.), and now he's remarried to someone who fits the bill.
So, if I'm supposedly at peace somewhat with all of that, what's with the anger? I didn't get a fancy degree and go through years of therapy to not know, y'all. I've realized that I didn't have the energy, money, or balls at the time to undergo a legal battle with my ex, who is a lawyer and whose lawyerliness came through loud and clear during the last few weeks of our short-lived marriage. Because of the guilt I felt for what I did and didn't do, and because of the guilt I felt for being relieved and so darn excited about the possibilities my new life as a singleton would hold for me, I believed I didn't rate what I was legally entitled to, which remains a mystery to me to this day. If I asked around, I'd probably discover that I just walked away from a decent-sized chunk of a settlement without a sound. It wouldn't have been a lot, but, most likely, it would have been a bit than what I ended up getting, which amounted to roughly $9,000.
The nice, guilt-ridden, Catholic girl in me asks: Did I deserve what little I got? Was he right for not giving me more? Maybe he WAS being generous. Maybe I didn't deserve anything at all. But the clawed and fanged part of me, the part that, thankfully, always helps me see through my own crap and opens doors for me answers: Oh, HELLLLLLS NO.
One of the things that my ex got out of the settlement...like he got almost everything...were 2 Greek icons painted in the traditional style with egg tempera and gold leaf. We had gotten them on a trip to Greece, and they had cost quite a lot. They were two of the pieces that I really loved in our house full of art that we had bought in our 5 year relationship together. I remember going back into the house after I had moved out to take one of the icons--the one of Eve stepping out of a sleeping Adam--but I stopped myself because, of course, I felt guilty. Man, guilt just puts a damper on all the fun, doesn't it?
6 years later, I found myself on the same island in Greece where I bought the icons. I told my partner (who is, thankfully, still my partner! Yay!) that I was on a mission to find this workshop and buy something, anything, from it. So, I walked and sweated for an hour or two until I turned a corner and found the little studio where they continued to create those beautiful icons. I bought the least expensive, but most beautiful one I could find (a whopping 70 Euro...dang, they're expensive), and felt vindicated. This one, this little 4x6" icon of an archangel, is mine and no one else's.
It's the same feeling I know I will have when I sign these papers. This property will be mine, and mine alone. Even though my ex's name will figure somewhere in the deed, maybe--because I'm just too lazy to read through all the legalese in Spanish--I'll just reimage his name into a sort of benchmark or sign post.. It would be as if it were saying, "See your ex's name? This is where you were and what you had with him. Now, see your signature at the bottom of the page? This is what you have without him...and it's a whole heck of a lot more than you could ever have imagined."
Sunday, June 13, 2010
My Review of Walk About Short
The popular Walk About pant now comes in a short length! Made with the comfortable stretch-woven lucy flex™ fabric, the durable, quick-drying Walk About Short provides a wide range of motion. Features plenty of pockets for hiking essentials—and is anti-wrinkle for avid travelers. <...
Awesome!
By doctorevie from Buenos Aires, Argentina on 6/13/2010
Waist: Feels true to size
Length: Feels true to length
Pros: High-Quality Material and Stitching, Comfortable, Breathable, Lightweight
Best Uses: Casual Wear, Running/Hiking, Camping, Backpacking, Travel
Describe Yourself: Casual/ Recreational
I bought these shorts on a very hot day, and it was a perfect fit. They're a very clean design, lightweight, and no-fuss. And they make my butt look good! I need to buy more.
(legalese)
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