HELP – I’M STUCK IN MY SPORTS BRA AND CAN’T GET OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It’s true…there are times when it’s nice to have a man around the house. Like when you put on a sports bra for the first time in a long while. Here I am both arms pinned to my side by my sports bra which has become a living, breathing entity right before my very eyes. It has me in a stranglehold and I can’t move.

What does one do?

1. Hunt for the scissors? No, that won’t work because I can’t free my hands.
2. Call 911? Again – no hands. Also highly embarrassing. I thought about calling my roommate, Steve,  but     all  he would do is suggest is 1 and 2. (“Mr. Fixit” doncha know)
3. Enlist the help of a neighbor? Nope – see #2.

So – there I am, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey with no relief in sight. Thus, it’s figure a way out or wait until someone finds my body. I manage to get one arm free and the damn thing wraps around my neck, strangling me. After mimicking a contortionist, I am finally able to breathe and the thing is snugly holding my boobs where nature intended them to be. Of course, they don’t move, but I think that’s the intent.

Then it’s on to panties. One must always wear thongs under exercise wear. Why? Just because, you idiot. Heaven forbid that anyone sees panty lines at the gym. What about the mortification of camel toes if you’re wearing nothing??? Or better yet – the medic that comes to revive you when you pass out sees that you do NOT have on clean underwear!!!

Then it’s time to pick out my exercise wear. OF COURSE IT MATTERS!!! If I’m going to sweat, I want to do it in a fashionable way, right? It’s too freakin’ cold for shorts and I have NO long pants suitable for a workout. I mean, when your inseam is 34” – everything you wear looks like Capri pants, unless it’s a tall. Thus, I go with pink Capri length stretch cotton. With sequins down the side of the legs. Duh! Doesn’t everyone wear sequins to the gym???

Next, I need a top that matches my pink pants and pink sports bra but allows for plenty of movement. Short sleeves, for sure – they will have the heat on. (After all, it’s 60 degrees outside – brrrrrrr) So, I settle on a tank top in a pink design with pink sparkly beads. Not a lot – just a couple of dozen, nothing ostentatious. I look in the mirror and realize I look too girly, so I throw on an oversized t-shirt that says “Rescue Dive Team”. That will show that I’m serious about working out.

Time for tennis shoes – pink, of course. Problem is that they are a little short and my toenails are a little long – not a good combination. So, I settle for my size 12 narrow New Balance running shoes. Damn they’re big. But they fit.

The gym is part of the Memorial Hospital Rehabilitation Center, so there are people of all ages and sizes. I pick out a locker and hit the treadmill. Now, I haven’t been able to figure out my MP3 player, although I’ve had it for three years, so I can’t hear what’s on the TV sets, nor can I listen to music to enhance my workout experience. As I’m on the treadmill, I look around and realize that there are a LOT of old people there. (NO – I DO NOT qualify as old) There’s one old guy getting on the stepper and he’s in such bad condition, it takes him ten minutes to put his feet on the pedals. Then I see three old ladies using the rowing machines at a snail’s pace. I didn’t know they even moved that slow. The machines, that is.

I’m done with my workout and it’s getting close to lunchtime and I see Frank on a step machine. My plan is to sneak behind him, pinch him on the butt and say “no wonder you have such a nice ass”. Cute, huh? Only problem is that right before my fingers are poised to pinch his butt, I realize he’s not wearing the same thing as Frank. Why you ask? Because it’s NOT Frank. OMG thank goodness I realized it BEFORE I pinched him. That would have been just a little more than embarrassing.

As we’re leaving, Frank asks about the other facility in Pembroke Pines, about ten miles from here. Turns out they have a pool AND a Jacuzzi. I looked over some of the classes they have – yoga, Pilates, Zumba, Kick-boxing, etc. and decide that I would enjoy joining this gym. Especially after the people at LA Fitness were so rude to Frank when I took him as a guest once.

Now comes the funny part. Frank had told me it would cost less than $20 for me to be added to his membership and was willing to do that for me. Only one problem – it’s supposedly for people who live together. Thus, we had to convince the lady that we lived together. (Even though his drivers’ license said Stuart and mine said Miami Beach) Of course, I had to ask Frank what our address was. Then the lady says “how long have you two been together?”. Frank immediately responds with “two years”, and I pop up and say “two years this May”. Then, Frank has to confirm the spelling of my name…”do you really have two L’s in your name?”. Dead giveaway. So, we have to explain to her that we each own a home – Frank in Stuart and me in Miami Beach. It has t

You think YOU’RE confused??? Think about the poor lady helping us. We’ll be back at the gym on Thursday for a “together” workout but I have to decide what class I want to take tomorrow night. Zumba? Pilates? Pil Yoga? Kickboxing? I think it will depend upon my mood…and the mood of my sports bra.

Ciao

Sorry there's no picture, but I honestly don't think it would be a pretty sight.