Things In Which You Shouldn’t Run.


So I wear leggings as pants.

Clearly, that came as a terrible shock to many of you – at least based on the comments, the Facebook conversations, and the in-real-life justifications I’ve had to offer since making my grand admission.

So, in an effort to regain your confidence, I’d like to present you with a few “At least I don’t wear these” items, compliments of HauteLook and Target.

(I realize that I’m simply yet again setting myself up for later recants, but surely not. Surely. Not.)

I may be wearing athletic leggings as pants now, but at least I don’t wear these.


“When leggings as pants aren’t edgy enough for you anymore, try hose as pants wrapped in brightly colored Ace Bandages!”

I cannot help but wonder the state of the crotch. Are we talking mummy-in-a-diaper or celebrity peek-a-boo?

If you prefer to mix and match your hosiery and metallic Lycra, there’s this variety:


* Note: anyone without thigh gap, which includes me and 99% of the world, will get exactly one wear out of these pants before getting a run in that frighteningly thin seam.

If you prefer to look like the Tin Man halfway through the shredder rather than C-3PO, they have you covered as well.


However. Any and all leggings ever made are better than a dropped-crotch pant.


Especially a dropped-crotch sweat pant. With heeled boots.


Because nothing says “I wear granny panties and Depends and maybe Pampers too” like a crotch that intentionally comes down to your knees.

Speaking of Granny Panties.


Can anyone explain to me why you want Granny in the front, party in the back?


If you’re going to wear a thong, wear a thong. If you’re going to cover the bottom half of your rib cage with your underwear, cover the bottom half of your rib cage with your underwear. You can’t have it all.

But let’s talk about what we’ve come here to talk about: What not to wear when running.

1. Don’t wear a sports bra that looks like it may have been hired to strangle you.


2. Or a sports bra that looks like it just finished touring with Lady Gaga.


3. In general, don’t give your boobs the opportunity to jump out the top of your top. It’s not good for aerodynamics.


4. Don’t wear pants that were upcycled from your fifth grade class photo backdrop.


Because no one needs flashbacks of their pimply tween face when they see your butt.



5. Don’t wear “pants” that look like you just escaped from a cult.


Because then everyone will assume you’re running from a bearded long-haired dude with 15 wives and 167 children, and you’ll be slowed down by dozens of offers to help.

6. Running skirts are weird. And they’re weirder still if printed with a 3-D Magic Eye poster from 1992.


After all, you don’t want to make other runners go cross-eyed trying to see your secret message. Unless you’re in a race. Then by all means make the other contestants trip.

7. Shoulder Peek-A-Boo is not meant for running. We’re running, ladies, not clubbing in Miami.


8. Unless you’re thighless, Dr.-Seuss-colored vertical stripes and spandex aren’t usually a good mix.


And most importantly,

9. Do not. I say DO NOT. Run. In a Thong.


I don’t care if it claims to be a performance thong.

So what if it says it wicks moisture. Exactly where do you think it’s going to send it?!

And you think your shoes rubbing your feet can cause chafing…you do not want chafing in the places a thong can travel.

And after a marathon, no amount of laundry detergent could make that thing sterile again. Assuming it doesn’t pop and smack you in the face on mile 22.

Let’s all just agree that VPL is okay when running – because the alternatives are deadly.

Five Jeans That Shouldn’t Exist.

As I’ve noted a few times, I do about 90% of my shopping on HauteLook. I’m a fan of shopping on my phone, and I’m fairly good at gauging what will fit and what won’t. Plus, I return what I don’t want and everyone’s happy.

And they have some ahhhhmazing jeans on there. For ridiculously good prices.

But lately, I’ve been running across some jeans that have…concerned me.

Okay they’ve made me drop my phone and run screaming to find antiseptic for my retinas.

Allow me to escort you back to 1984 to start our journey in discussing five jeans that shouldn’t exist. Five pieces of denim so mistreated that they could win an abuse case against their manufacturer.

1. Culottes the size of Cuba.


Oh yes. Those shorts would have even been acceptable at my track meets. The pleats alone contain more fabric than any single pair of shorts that I own. Or maybe all of my shorts sewn together.

And just in case you wanted to see how smoking hottt these shorts look with a little midriff showing (and I do mean a little)…


I know right. These shorts are nearly too indecent to publish on the internet. Because nothing. Nothing I say. Uplifts your butt like fifty yards of denim straight from JoAnn Fabrics draping over it.



Kim Kardashian is weeping in envy right this second.

But let’s move on.

2. The Overall Mini-Dress.

This is Culotte Girl’s rebellious next-door neighbor. She’s the Kimmie to her D.J., The Betty to her Wilma. She says “I’m sexy and I know it but I want to look like an 18 month old boy.”

3. The Sleeveless Denim Romper. For those who want to look like their waist is ten inches wider than it actually is and that they took two pairs of Grandma Jeans and sewed them together.


Please note: This model’s stats indicate that she has a 25” waist. Twenty-five inches. Which means that an actual human would look like the Michelin Man wrapped in shop towels if they attempted to wear this.

4. The “I might’ve just gotten attacked by a zombie…or maybe a melon baller” shirt.


Button-up shirts were not meant to have shoulder cut-outs. It’s just weird made weirder still when in denim. And the gathering at the bottom-most point of the peek-a-boos look like a fitted sheet. And we all know that everyone hates dealing with fitted sheets.

Don’t wear a fitted sheet.

5. The Pocketless Jean Jort.


Oh wait. That’s not from HauteLook, is it?


(And whoever that is has a ridiculously messy living room.)

But you can’t say he’s not selling his product…


I mean, if you can runway spin a jean jort, what level of confidence might you have in a tux?


And really, who doesn’t love a good elastic waistband during the holidays?


Okay, okay. Jorts can stay.


But the rest must go.

Smells Like Tween Spirit.

My daughter is tall – like 90th percentile tall. She’s always been tall. And we’re not quite sure why.

Lately her tallness has been catching us off guard – if Chris takes a picture of her, I flip out a little on the inside at how old she looks.

Tune in next week for more Poser & Crackers.

A photo posted by Chris (@rehpochris) on

If I take a picture of her, he becomes slightly teary-eyed at how mature she appears.

This was not my idea. #goldencreeper

A photo posted by Rachel Callahan (@objectivityrach) on

She also loves to wear dresses. So tallness + dresses means that I always buy at least one size too big so that she can:

a) Wear it a year with modesty,

b) Wear it another two years with leggings, and

c) Wear it another year as a shirt.

…Because I buy her nice dresses and I want them to get their due usage. I buy these nice dresses because the cheaper brands that I used to buy her had a striking change at the size of 4, as the size of 4 is complicated.

4 is great because you have the choice of buying 4T or 4 clothes, which means you have twice the selection.

4 is horrible, awful and no-good because every size 4T sleeved dress is now a size 4 halter, and every size 4T shirt with a scooped neckline is now a size 4 with a deep plunging v neckline.



The heaviest offender of this habit is Children’s Place, where I almost exclusively shopped until she turned four. So we parted ways and I replaced them with the Tea Collection, who sees no need in skanking up a pre-K’s clothing.

(Note. I do not think that every halter or v-neckline is slutty on a four-year-old. Hopefully you understand the point of my rant. If not, feel free to throw turtleneck blue jean overall dresses at me in the comment section.)

Nearly Ali’s entire wardrobe is now Tea Collection,


But Tea Collection isn’t cheap. And even though I have the four-year-plan for Ali’s dresses, I’m still not going to pay full price. So I carefully shop the sales and clearances and really do quite well.

(And I buy the coordinating long sleeve tees to put under her short-sleeved dresses, thereby getting two seasons a year for four years out of some of her dresses. I really should get a Nobel Prize for my wardrobe-stretching abilities.)

But as I have been shopping Black Friday and Cyber Monday sales to purchase Ali’s latest allotment of dresses, I’ve found myself in a deep crisis.

Ali turns 8 in January.

Which means that I don’t want to buy her size 8 dresses, or she’ll grow out of them before I feel they’ve been adequately used.

But guess what size doesn’t exist for girls?

That’s right.

A 9.

Or an 11, for that matter. Or a 13.

And so now I’m stuck, with many questions and zero answers.

Why the flip does the clothing industry decide that nine-year-olds don’t deserve their own size? Does no growth happen at nine? Are nine year olds such a black hole between little girl and tween that they don’t deserve clothes that fit?

And is a 10 two sizes bigger than an 8, or just one size and they’re trying to make it seem two sizes bigger? And if so, why not just call it a 9 and let us have what we want?

Why does an 18 month old get their own half-year size, but there’s a two-year gap when many pre-adolescent growth spurts start happening? Do babies deserve less ill-fitting clothes than angsty and changing little girls?

And most importantly, I DON’T WANT TO BUY MY SEVEN-YEAR-OLD CLOTHES THAT ARE TAGGED FOR A TEN-YEAR-OLD. That smells of tween spirit. And I am not prepared for running a Tweendom.

Please enlighten me, Moms-that-are-ahead-of-me. I NEED YOU.