Thursday...Thursday
Thursday, May. 14, 2009 - 09:21
The Hazards of Wearing Shirts
When I wake up in the morning, before I get out of bed, I think, "What should I wear today?" It is not a pleasant way to start the day - I am a terrible shopper and never have anything to wear. I've been wearing the same ragged and unprofessional garments to work for the last four years (with a brief pleasant interruption when I went back to school and could wear jeans and t-shirts whenever I felt like it, which was always). Today I decided to wear a little blue short-sleeved button-up shirt with delicate embroidered flowers that I got years and years ago at KMart or something. It's nice, and small, and was unwearable in my previous life when I was puffier. A month or two ago (at Costco) I got two new bras (a two-pack!), one white with pink on the inside (so fancy! so feminine!) and one swimming-pool turquoise with yellow on the inside (so festive! so springy!). And it's the turquoise one I decided to wear today and I didn't think anything of it until a half hour ago when I traipsed down to the bathroom and looked in the mirror and saw that my shirt is a tad see-through.
Saved By Yoga!
I went into a stall and sat on the toilet thinking to myself. A conundrum. What would a smart girl do? A light-colored shirt and a darker bra. I could put on the stupid fleece I wore to work this morning, although that would probably make me sweaty and stinky, and also it's a dumb fleece. Or I could walk around always holding my shirt out so it doesn't lie on my skin and brassiere. Oh but wait! I've got my yoga clothes with me, including a light blue sports bra - I'll change into that.
The Switcheroo
Transporting the replacement bra into the bathroom was a fairly simple matter - stuffed it into my pocket no probs. But getting the turquoise bra back into my office without anyone knowing would be trickier. It is the kind of bra with wires and built-in boobs, and it does not squash or crumple nearly so easily as a sports bra. I tried stuffing it into my pants but that did not work - it looked like a large uncomfortable tumor or hernia, or baby. In the end I folded it as neatly as I could, put it awkwardly into the pocket of my aformentioned stupid fleece, and walked quickly back to my office, head down, eyes averted, hoping no one would suspect I was transporting unmentionables around the building.
Saved By Yoga, Part 2
Last night I was slightly frazzled and stressed out. Why? I can't say, really, or I don't want to say, or whatever. Maybe it had to do with a wild and unexpected emotional squalor that descended upon me when it looked like the beautiful and nice and fun and normal girl I trained during my radio show yesterday would be getting her next training session from someone I have no business getting jealous over. (She won't be, turns out, and the possibility wasn't very high to begin with anyway, but the stress the possibility gave me for about two minutes was very high and very weird and very unanticipated and very indefensible, even if the possibility had turned into reality and even if I had had any business getting jealous over it at all.) Maybe I was ausgestressed because my roommate came back a day earlier than she said she would and I had been looking forward to spending a solitary evening listening to records and eating microwaved food in the living room. Maybe it was because I was so tired and tired out and my knees still hurt and we were supposed to run 7 miles last night and I decided to go 5 instead. I don't know. All I can say is that I was slightly unsettled or something, and then I remembered that I have yoga tonight and I felt better. "Yay," I thought, "yoga. Ahh." I'm going to ask my yoga instructor about book recommendations, because I think I'm ready to take that step.
