guess who didn’t have to ask for help getting out of her own undergarments

Stuck in my sports bra. Yup, that was me yesterday morning when I was trying to get changed into my work clothes at the gym. I don’t understand. I have worn this bra a million times before, but, unknown to me, it had suddenly shrunk to about one tenth its original size yesterday.

I got my elbow wedged sort of strangely part way under the side before it started to make ominous seam ripping noises. Freeze. Move a little, the scary noise starts again. Freeze. This process continued for a little while before I paused, arm strangely clamped to my body with hand sticking out like a useless fingered flipper, and wondered if I should leave the bathroom and ask for help.

It’s not as bad as it sounds. Nobody particular had been inspired to get up and work out with us at 6:30 that day, so only two other people were there at the moment. Both women. Both good friends of mine. I tried to picture the scene, Hey ladies, you’ve probably never heard this from another woman before, but would someone please take my clothes off? It wouldn’t actually be THAT embarrassing, not by my usual standards anyway. But I was really wedged in now and wasn’t entirely sure that outside help would do the situation any good. Plus, I would have had to somehow get my pants back on before leaving the bathroom . . .  my friends were not THAT good of friends.

I briefly contemplated plan B, giving up and putting work clothes on overtop of my sweaty sports bra, but quickly disregarded this idea in favor of the faster and easier plan C – just yanking the bra off regardless of any ripping noises and consequential damage.

Success. I got it off in one piece. Amazingly, the bra was still in one piece too. But I’m now afraid to wear it again. Not only because I am worried about hidden structural damage from all that yanking, but also because there is no way to know when if the dang thing is going to suddenly shrink up and take a strangle hold on me again after I’ve already gotten it on. I’m not sure what to do.

On an unrelated note, I am dying of allergies that I did not know I had before this year. All of the usual remedies have done NOTHING. Help! What does one do when this happens?

On another note that is also not related to the post OR to the first unrelated note, did you know that calories consumed on a day when you had to go to the dentist don’t count? It’s an official rule that I just made up. You can thank me later.

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5 thoughts on “guess who didn’t have to ask for help getting out of her own undergarments

    • Exactly! Dentist days are just like days when you have to go to the doctor, or take your car to the mechanic, or work on the weekend … I have a whole list 😉

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