This is Awkward for Both of Us

This isn't me either.

About a year ago, I did something super embarrassing.

Then I came home and blogged about it in an attempt to turn embarrassing into funny.

But I never published it.

Apparently I had a sense of pride back then.

Anyway, I was cleaning out my “draft posts” today, and I came across that post.

Because the initial wave of embarrassment has passed, I figure it’s time.

You’re welcome.


I’m a gym rat.

Okay, I’m totally not, but I do try to go to the gym at least three times per week.  Primarily because they have free child watch and I get to sing in public.

And by sing, I mean that I get to sing along to pop music played deafeningly loud and pretend that people can hear me even though they absolutely cannot.

But I look super hot doing it, which is my main goal.

Anyway, because I rarely work on Monday or Wednesday, I always roll out of bed and immediately put on my workout clothes.

You know, to stay inspired.

There is no way I’m going to get sweaty at the gym once I look all clean and pretty.

So, I usually strip down to my underwear, put on a sports bra and a tank top, and pull on a pair of spandex capris that look something like this:

Not me, but I’m totally cool with it if you think so

On chilly days, I’ll toss a sweatshirt over the tank top and some sweatpants over the spandex capris.  After which I look something like this:

Not me either.

Makes sense, right?

Well, it was particularly chilly on the day in question, so I totally needed to wear sweats.

(Yes, this is relevant.)

I get to the gym, banish Sydney and Dylan to childwatch, and head up to the room that houses all of the bikes.

(I’m a spinner, you see.)

I enter the room, find an empty bike towards the back, and adjust my seat to suit my height.

At this point in my spinning career, I didn’t really know many of the regular spinners.  So I didn’t pause to say hello to anyone or even attempt to find a bike next to any particular person.

Frankly, I was a bit invisible.


Then the embarrassing thing happened.

I popped my water bottle into the holder, got out a towel to wipe off the copious amounts of sweat I expected to expel, and I dropped my sweatpants to the floor in anticipation of kicking them free of my sneakers.  I had to prepare for a solid 50 minutes of vicious pedaling, you see.


I had forgotten to put my spandex capris on under my sweatpants.

Yes, folks.  I was standing in the middle of the spin room in my underwear.

So, I looked something like this:

And once I felt the air hit my nearly bare backside, I froze.  My pants were puddled around my ankles, the edge of my tank top barely brushed my hip bones, and there were two entire rows of bikes behind me.

At that point, I didn’t know how many folks were on those bikes. I didn’t want to look, for fear of drawing attention to the woman in the middle of the room who was WEARING ONLY PANTIES AND A TANK TOP.

So, because I’m a pro at extricating myself from humiliating circumstances, I simply gave an exaggerated shiver, murmured, “Brrrr, it’s chilly in here!” and pulled my pants up.  I even put my sweatshirt back on for full effect.  Without looking around, I hopped onto my bike and began to warm up.

I’m pretty sure I was the definition of unflappable. Even though I really wanted to take my saggy ass and even saggier underwear and leave.

But I just kept pedaling and avoided making eye contact.

That way I could continue to pretend that no one had noticed.

(This is where you admire me for remaining so self-assured and calm.)

I completed the entire class, and hoped my reddened face was attributed to my exertion.  Which it was, because I was wearing a full sweatsuit.

As I was stretching at the end of class, I let my gaze wander casually to the rows behind me.

They contained 6 females and 2 males.  The bike directly behind me was empty.  I breathed a sigh of relief.

I looked at each of the men with a suspicious glare, and they smiled politely.  Based on their reactions, it appeared they hadn’t noticed.  Maybe they weren’t even in the room when it happened.

I glanced at the women.

One of them met my gaze directly and smirked at me.  I asked, “Did you see my embarrassing moment at the beginning of class?”

She didn’t even pretend not to know to what I was referring, “Yes.  It wasn’t that bad.  At least you’re wearing black.”

Me, “Really?  I’m so glad no one was directly behind me.”

Her, “Well, there was someone behind you, but he left.”

Me, “HE?”

Her, “Yeah.”

Me, “Do you think he saw?”

Her, “I don’t know. Maybe. (pause) Probably.”

Me, “Seriously?  That sucks.  Do you know who he is?”

Her, “No idea.  I really didn’t get a good look at him.”


So, now there is a man somewhere in the gym who has seen my underwear-clad ass.  Who then felt the need to leave the room immediately.

I don’t know who he is.

And now it appears that quite a few people at my gym read this blog.

So, dude, if you read this . . . I’m sorry you had to see that.

And now that I’ve apologized, let’s never speak of this again.

The End.