Remember that time I was going to the gym every day in preparation for the Midmar Mile? Yes that time. Anyway, on this particular day I went to gym as usual, rushed through to the change room and quickly slipped into my swimming costume, grabbed my goggles and swimming cap and speed-walked (sped-walked?) to the swimming pool. I’d go at a very busy time (but the only convenient time for me) and it was a fight to get an empty lane and the worst thing for me was having to share a lane with some stranger. Firstly, because I was so afraid to bash into the person I was sharing with, that I’d spend more time hyperventilating about when our exact paths would cross, and I’d lose focus on my counting and breathing and my mind would be completely frazzled and it would just be a bad swim for me. Secondly, because I didn’t want the other person to beat me; so there I was barely able to breathe properly battling to keep up with a much younger, more toned, obviously more professional swimmer than myself. These dudes had like a million things wrapped around their bodies – don’t ask me what but I figure something monitoring their heart rates, breathing, some fancy underwater music listening device – I don’t know, but these swimmers were professionals ok. And when sharing a lane with a winner, you need to at least make like you can swim. So yes, sharing a lane caused me too much anxiety… but I digress.
So on this day which was rushed as usual due to the above mentioned factors, after swimming my little heart out, I climbed out the pool and walked toward my towel. As I grabbed my towel, a small little piece of black fabric sorta/kinda dropped from my towel, and landed at my feet. Oh no.. that? That? That wasn’t my PANTY was it??
Oh yes it was.
The next few seconds went by very fast. There were only two dudes in the pool, who both happened to have stopped at the wall for a breather. From what I could tell they were not looking at me, or in the least bit interested in me, so a more sensible person would have just picked the broekie up and walked away with head held high. Ja well, I didn’t do that. I wrapped my towel around me and hightailed it out of there so fast – while the colour rose from my neck, probably right to the roots on my scalp. When I got to the change room, I was like “oh that was stupid, what are you? 15 years old” – I messaged my husband because that’s what you do after an embarrassing moment, and he wanted to know which one and when I explained which one, HE WANTED ME TO GO BACK AND FETCH IT because apparently it was his favourite one. I messaged my sister and she had a good laugh. I figure my undies must have gotten tangled up in my towel in my gym bag. And there I was – panty-less at the gym. Well let me tell you if you haven’t done it in a while, that going “commando” is very liberating. You should give it a go sometimes.
Fast forward to the next day.
The pool was dead quiet – it always is on a Saturday morning. I drop my towel in the usual spot and just to the side of the little wooden benching, is my one and only black number. My first thought was gross, don’t they clean this area every day? But my next thought was ok great, this is my chance to get my panty back. I wasted spent my whole swim conjuring up scenarios on the best way to steal a panty. I kept praying that no one would come and swim and that I could get away with it, without having to worry about people watching me. I had THE worst and probably the best swim of my life because I wasn’t keeping count, I wasn’t focusing on my breathing, I wasn’t even watching the clock – all I was focused on was the Perfect Panty Heist. Hey, I may have swam 5 blinking kilometers without knowing it, so engrossed was I with Project Bringing Sexy(Panty) Back. My plans came crashing down when a little old lady with a floral flower cap and matching swimming costume came toddling over, but I figured her eye sight was bad enough for me to wait until she was at the other end of the pool before making my move.
So I got out the pool, I may or may not have done some weird stretchy movements – you know like warming down after my exercise (I never warm up, let alone warm down?) and made a grab for my wet panty, wrapped it in my towel and casually strolled toward the change room. Sauvé as EVER. I reenacted the series of unfortunate events via BBM to my husband and my sister who replied with lots of LOLs and HAHAHAs and ROTFLs and all those silly BBM emoticons which basically say you’re a loser.
Who said gym was boring? I’m sure they play that security tape back everyday just for laughs. You can best believe I compartmentalized my gym bag thoroughly from that day onwards.
Ps: really, you should totally try that “commando” thing.