Jorts is such an ugly term. It conjures up visions of dads in white socks with velcro sandals, cell phones clipped to their belts, waiting in line for churros at a theme park.
There comes a point in your life when you feel comfortable with your thighs rubbing together in hot, public places. I am not at that exit yet. I’m on the exit ramp, off to the side, where the truckers park to sleep. I’m not talking about mentally comfortable. In fact, after 20 hours in a […]