Up until last year, I can’t tell you the last time I went out and bought a pair of shorts. I used to wear them all summer long, but after rupturing my Achilles tendon in my right leg in 1997, and then after having some complications after the surgery, let’s just say that wearing shorts didn’t have much appeal to me after that. But I noticed something one day last year—my leg seemed better. Not great, but better. So I bought a pair of shorts.
That’s when things got confusing.
When did shorts become so long that they hang down to the place where my tube socks used to be pulled up to? Are these really shorts or just short long pants? And how does a person move in them—especially on the tennis court—when they hang down so far?
I have no answers.
Last week, I bought a couple more pairs and was left with the same questions. Then a friend gave me a pair that he picked up on a discount rack that wouldn’t fit him. All of a sudden, I have a drawer full of shorts that make me feel like I woke up after a 20-year coma to a world in which all the styles have changed.
Photo credit: Abraham Del Pozo
