It finally happened. The dreaded day that I knew was coming has finally arrived. Today, I forgot to bring part of my work clothes to the gym with me.
I’ve done this before, but in reverse. I’ve arrived at crossfit in the evening only to discover that I forgot to bring socks, or a sports bra, or – on one memorable occasion – shoes. But at crossfit, it’s only annoying, not really embarrassing, because my crossfitters have seen me in every possible state of embarrassment I can come up with. I know I bring it on myself, but when you announce that you’re going to do a handstand and then flip over backward, or when you confess in a very carrying voice that you just peed your pants doing double unders, it’s really not much of a stretch to be able to walk in and yell, “Does anyone have an extra sports bra? I’m not wearing one!”
But ever since I started going to the gym in the morning too, I’ve had this growing fear that I will forget to pack a REAL bra, or some such article of clothing. And I really, REALLY can’t be showing up to work partially dressed in gym clothes. That would not fly.
I did make it quite a long time before that happened. But one cannot persevere forever, and today I forgot … an undershirt.
Now, I know what you all are thinking: someone who goes to work without underwear on 50 percent of the time really shouldn’t be worried about a missing undershirt. And, as a matter of fact, I don’t wear ANY undershirt most of the time. But today, I had packed a dress that is SO low cut that I really can’t imagine that any person could possibly wear it without something underneath (although people frequently wear things that I could never imagine anyone wearing). At any rate, it would be utterly inappropriate to wear to the office, especially an office full of men. To use Kate’s wording, I would have “given them a heart attack.” So I went in search of a safety pin.
Safety pins, unfortunately, turned out to be a little thin on the ground at the box, so I started my usual moaning and groaning and loud contemplations of what the heck I was going to do, which generally encourage other people to help me out (if only to get me to shut up). And, get this, one of the GUYS was the person who came up with a solution for me: “just tape it.”
Duh. So yeah. I went to work today with a piece of athletic tape holding my dress together. It didn’t look quite right, but it also didn’t look like you could totally see my boobs, so I just had to roll with it and try my best to hide the weird taped part with a scarf.
Speaking of my looking silly (and, really, when do we ever get a chance to talk about anything else?), I went to a gymnastics clinic over the weekend. If anybody needs a gymnastics clinic, it’s me. Put a barbell in my hands, let me throw some weight around, and I am a happy camper. Make me throw my OWN weight around and I will struggle and wiggle and flop over and generally just muddle through.
So, anyway, I went to this gymnastics clinic yesterday. And, as usual, I struggled with handstand walking. And handstands in general. Pretty much anything that requires me to be upside down without a wall to balance on is not cool with me. But I did it anyway, and while I was hanging out with my hands on the ground foolishly trying to kick my feet over my head, it occurred to me how cool it was that I could do something so incredibly silly looking in a room full of other adults who were totally not judging me, because a lot of them were doing exactly the same thing. Crossfit is kind of great for that.
I did manage to hold a handstand for all of three seconds by the end of the class, which pretty much shattered all of my previous handstanding accomplishments. Because they consisted of no handstands whatsoever. So there is that.