Have I mentioned I hate summer? I mean recently. I believe you can find previous mentions here, here, and here. One of the many things I hate about summer is shorts. I know I do not have to wear them, but sometimes they are the only thing that will do. Since the three pairs I had were either falling off me, falling apart, had paint all over them, or a combination platter thereof, I made the ultimate sacrifice. I went OUT and bought some shorts.
Now. Shorts are funny things. Especially for someone whose legs look like giant stalks of white asparagus. Or like tree trunks with the bark ripped off. And because I am not a size 4, my choices are limited. I can wear what are actually pedal pushers or possibly clam-diggers. Because that’s such a flattering look on a girl. I can wear these canvas things with drawstring waists or a lovely seersucker madras plaid. A jaunty knee length denim number would be awesome if it were 1984 and someone else were dressing me because I’d taken leave of my senses. I did finally manage to find a pair of booty shorts. NOT a good look for most people, but I did happen to notice they had tabs and could be rolled down to cover my business. Sold.
These shorts have three buttons at the waist, then the waistband morphs into something I thought would be super comfortable. It’s an elastic band about the width of my thumb and covered in soft cotton knit. The legs say I’m a hottie, the waistband says I’ve given up. The thing is that the elastic is not tacked anywhere but to the front button placket. So it squirms. It twists. Trying to get the waistband straightened out is like trying to get a cranky infant into one of those long onsie things with feet that have the snaps at the diaper so you have to put the damn thing over the baby’s head. And the baby has a stomach ache AND an ear ache and is all squirmy and sweaty and screaming. That’s what getting into these shorts is like.
Other than that, I love them.
Yesterday I tacked the elastic to the knit band in a couple of places, and that has helped. I don’t know about you, but I read user reviews before I buy something online. I’ve learned which ones to ignore (those with neither punctuation nor capitalization) and which ones to take to heart (those in which the reviewer has actually used the product are helpful). I sat down to compose a helpful review. Here it is:
Title: Designed by Satan
Review: I never believed in Satan until I wore these shorts, but that is clearly who designed them. Because the elastic is not attached to the knit waistband, you must spend five minutes (I timed it) working the kinks out of the elastic. Once you have done this, you must carefully arrange the shorts on the floor and stage a sneak attack to put them on. You must put them on gently lest they realize what’s happening and start twisting around and laughing manically.
In short, these shorts rebel like a 14 year old.
Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, I like the style. The length is short, and I do not use the tab function to roll them up because I don’t like to have to have a special hair removal session just to run out for milk. They aren’t actually pedal pushers which I did not want. And that’s why I’m keeping them. The size is true. The khaki color has a lot of red in it, fyi. Tacking the elastic to the waist has helped, so if you have needle and thread you can enjoy poking them into submission.
I thought that was a helpful review. Target did not. It would not let me publish it. The unhelpful site would not actually say WHY, but I removed references to Satan, teenagers, and infants and it seemed to take. It is now titled “Waistband of Doom”. You can’t read it online because Target hasn’t published it. But as much as I love Target, the website sucks (insert joke about 1997 calling for its website) so I’m not terribly surprised or upset my honest and helpful review was not published. Target also did not respond to my tweet where I name-checked them, but to be fair, I once tried to compliment the management staff of a store and there was nowhere on the website to do so nor did they respond to that tweet.
Just know if you’re going to buy a pair of Pure Energy shorts with a knit band, you’re going to want to refill your Valium. But I found the fit to be true-to-size bordering on generous and I really like the polished cotton material.