Never Trust a Girl If Her Thighs Don’t Touch

I decided to travel with style yesterday. I wore my black maxi dress, black and white stripped cover up, and adorable sandals.

As I was walking through the airport, I immediately realized I forgot to pack an extremely important item: body glide (aka the anti-chaffing miracle worker).

At first, my rubbing thighs didn’t bother me. However, once Britt picked us up from the airport and we started walking to the burger joint – I was in big time pain.

Now, I did pat down my big ol’ thighs with some baby powder before we left, but that only lasted about 35 seconds before the chaffing took over my life.

“Babe, I am not sure if I can make it,” I said to Justin.

He started laughing.

“You got this!” He said, encouraging me to fight through the pain.

I would make him stop every few blocks so I could separate my legs and give myself a break.

“Will you be embarrassed if I put my dress between my legs and try to walk?” I asked him.

“Do what you gotta do!” J said back

That was a bad idea. And I looked ridiculous, so I gave up.

After about a mile (the longest mile of my life probably), Justin said, “We should be here.”

I looked around with no signs of the burger joint…

Thankfully, it was just a block up the road!

I started giving myself an internal pep talk, “You have done five half marathons – you can make it!!”

Once we got there, I rushed to the bathroom trying to think of something to relieve the pain.

I tossed down my bag and cover up on the ground and rushed to the kitchen sink to apply cold water to my burning thighs.

Is this real life?

As I went to pick up my bag, I realized the toilet was leaking. My new Vera Bradley backpack was soaked with piss water.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I screamed so loud the kitchen staff probably heard me.

Then I picked up my cover up, which was also completely soaked.

I did the walk of shame to my table am found Justin sitting there drooling over which burger to order.

I told him what happened and he started laughing- this really is just another day in my life full of awkwardness and bad luck.

“Hey, I live by your theory,” Justin said. “Never trust a girl if her thighs don’t touch.”

We both laughed and I went to eat a French fry.

Side note- I asked for ranch dressing to dip my fries in and the server thought I was crazy + told me they don’t have ranch dressing…must be a Midwest thing!

Then my inner-self started talking, “Your thighs touch because you eat burgers with bacon and fries.”

I looked at Justin, who was smiling at me and said, “How is everything?”

“Wonderful,” I said.

I’m on vacation.

I’m almost 22 weeks pregnant.

I picked up another fry and popped it into my mouth.

My thighs will always touch. And that’s fine. My self-worth is not measured by the size of my thighs.

So we enjoyed our first lunch in DC and I waddled (literally, waddled) my way to CVS.

“Where is the chaffing cream?” I moaned with desperation.

“Do they have a big thigh section!?” Justin asked.

Oh yeah, right next to the big booty isle, J!!

I gave up and found some lotion – this will get me home!!

“Where are you going to put that on?” Justin asked.

“A dark alley, a bush – I don’t care!” I said.

Thankfully, a Dunkin Donuts was across the street so I ran into the bathroom.

What a relief.

So, what we did we learn yesterday?

Never travel without body glide.

Don’t walk 1.5 miles in a maxi dress.

And never trust a girl if her thighs don’t touch.

Final side note: If your thighs don’t touch, I am only kidding. Good for you – now go eat a burger and fries (with ranch dressing ).

Much love,

PS I am blogging from my cell phone, so please excuse any extra typos and the lack of pictures!

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