Here I present to you the results of a Sunday spent pantless. To figure out what the heck I am doing, you can read the original entry.
First up on my day spent pantless was my long run. Something I failed to mention in the original entry was that one article I read stated the “pantless look” does not always entail ditching the pants, but instead includes sporting short shorts covered with a top of your choice. Hmm, this seems a little like my everyday running outfit. So I committed my first fashion faux pas – one of many – and strapped on some running bloomers, circa my cross-country college days.
Although I did capture some photos of this get-up, I decided to leave my shame in the woods where it belonged and not on the world-wide web for everyone’s viewing pleasure. The photos were little provocative and I’m not ready to suffer the ramifications of being mistaken for an adult actress. Not again at least. To get an idea of what I actually looked like, go ahead and click on the “the anti-who?” tab at the top of this website, scroll done, and see me sporting my blue bloomers.
In an attempt to counteract the initial embarrassment I felt jaunting through the woods in what was the equivalent of underwear, I decided to run fast. The results would be a 16 mile run at about 7:15 pace. In my head, I reasoned that if I were to run fast enough, there was the potential that anyone witnessing the event would mistakenly believe I was actually participating in a trail race. I’m pretty sure it worked. Bikers graciously moved off the trail as I approached, which is normally the role I play.
Whether they believed I was leading the pack on my way to a race victory or simply trying to be polite toward a clearly unhinged runner, it ended up being a terrific long run. I never realized ditching 3 extra inches of fabric could feel so freeing and, even better, I only received the occasional odd glance. Although this could have been more of a result of my tan line giving the deceiving impression that I was actually sporting shorts in a shade of fleshy white.
At the completion of the run I realized I had garnered more hellos and how-do-you-do’s than normal. Overall, I’d label it a success. I’m pretty certain if I ever muster the strength to sport these bloomers on a tempo run, I could run sub 6 minute pace. Or at least pick up some guys.
Next up was a trip to Target.
Now the original article I read on Huffington Post stated that some celebrities were turning their shirts into dresses, no shorts included. I viewed some photos of Blake Lively and Taylor Momsen (um, who is that?) sporting black tights under these “shirt dresses.” I thought this would be appropriate given this is the east coast and not actually Hollywood.
After being tentative on my first few steps in the store, I realized no one seemed to stare when I walked with a little swagger. At first, I attributed this outcome to my confidence throwing off their need to judge. But then I spotted another chick sporting almost the same exact outfit as me and realized they had probably wasted all their judgement on her. Bitch clearly read my blog.
There was only one faltering moment, when I dropped a bottle of water and bent down to pick it up, did I realize how this pantless exploit could result in fleeting though significant humiliation. Lesson learned: Do not wear white underwear while sporting black see-through tights.
Upon arriving home, I ditched the tights and strapped on some knee-high socks, a necessity given my garden level apartment tends to get a bit chilly. I also attired myself with shorts that I am pretty sure revealed the lower part of my bumchecks. Not really a big deal. Unless people are around. They were. To them I apologize.

Note that the pug actually just got from a Biggest Loser audition. Fingers crossed he makes it on the show!
In conclusion of my Sunday spent pantless, I can say I probably will do it again. Just because. Any embarrassing moments had donned in tights with only the coverage of a shirt were mitigated by sheer comfort. The constrictive feel of denim was never once missed, as each stride felt more fluid, more graceful. And I could use some grace. Might help me pick up those cops.
I doubt I will be sporting bloomers anytime in the near future but if I start having trouble setting some PRs, it may be a step I am willing to take. Heck, I might even ditch my shirt if it will help me break the 3 hour marathon mark. I may not be able to pull off a silver glittery shirt-dress like Beyonce, but they won’t stop me trying. Until I muster up that kind of courage, I’m off to do some online shopping in my underwear. Someone needs to purchase some new tights.


