short shorts, fat ass

it's finally summer here. the sun is shining. the birds are singing. the rain has slowed to just one eensy-weensy little thunderstorm a day (trust me, this an improvement). all in all, i should be a pretty happy girl, right? i should have little to nothing to complain about, correct?
nope. never!
my latest qualm was actually brought on by the beautiful weather, which has reminded of one of life's little injustices that i never fully could accept:
my complete inability to wear shorts.
for years, i avoided even the mention of them. why? because the second i put them on my big, cuddly ghetto-booty takes one look at them and goes oh! what a cute little pair of shorts you are! let me give you a hug! om nom nom nom! and then proceeds to swallow them whole so that all that's left is a tiny swatch of fabric sticking out of the vast landscape of my bare asscheeks.
now, i've tried some basic solutions i.e., buy a bigger size, shop in the old lady department, avoid anything fabrics that might be prone to riding up. apparently, nothing works. case in point: i recently bought a pair of sturdy denim shorts two sizes too big and a few inches too long. i'm talking grandma style. my mom even borrowed them from me once, reasurring my initial assumption that coochie cutters, these are not. so i wore em out last week and i'm walking towards my friends car and she starts screaming out the window "damn girl! put some clothes on you little slut!" later, after much scowling, sulking and pouting from me she's like "you know i was just kidding right?" and i'm thinking yeah, sure you were.
now normally, i wouldn't sweat it that much, but the situation brought back a seriously painful memory for me. a few years ago, my current beau and i decided to grab a pizza and spend the night in. i wore a sexy little pair of velour booty shorts, hoping to seduce him. so when we went to go pick up the pizza down the street, the owner/manager of the pizza place who happens to be an aqaintance of ours is like "um, excuse me but your ass is hanging out. i can see your buttcheeks. you might want to put some clothes on" and of course, i'm completely mortified! i was just trying to look nice for my boyfriend, and on top of that, it's not like i'm the first woman to ever wear a pair of short shorts. once we got in the car, i told my boyfriend how embarassed i was and he was just like "bae, what do you expect when you dress like a slut?" EXCUSE ME, MOTHERFUCKER, BUT I WORE THOSE FOR YOU!!!!!
i now realize that it takes a huge d-bag to make a comment like that, and an even bigger d-bag to not have his girl's back, but still, the memory of it shames me and induces massive amounts of cringing, not to mention a strong aversion to ever wearing shorts again.
the problem is, i like shorts! who the fuck wants a pair of skinny jeans hugging up on your thighs in ninety degree heat? plus, the fashion possibilities are endless! shorts with tights, shorts with knee-his, shorts with boots. but no matter how i wear em, i always end up looking like this guy:

*le sigh*

love always