“Girls” Gone Wild

It was a very strange feeling. I knew something was amiss as I walked on the treadmill at the gym because “the girls” were not as harnessed in, close to my bosom, as I like them to be. I like them securely ensconced in a sports bra
— especially when working out– so I don’t accidentally receive a black eye, should I decide to increase my speed.

But, I walked for half an hour anyway, because if I had stopped to see where they were, I probably wouldn’t have gotten back on the treadmill. I know myself pretty well. I’ll use just about any excuse not to exercise. But, because the machine I was on was facing a second story window and not toward the gym, my bouncing bazoongas wouldn’t be encroaching upon anyone else’s space– or creating a boob-ha-ha – so there wasn’t a good reason to cut my workout short.

Unlike men, who insist that they are “adjusting” themselves when caught with their hands down their pants, most women don’t publicly shove their hands into their bras to boldly put the boulders back where their boulders had gone before. So, I felt that tugging on my bra once or twice was acceptable gym etiquette. Anything more than that and I might have been asked to leave the premises and not return, which, by the way, would have been fine with me since, as stated previously, I don’t like to exercise. But, I didn’t want to be thrown out of the gym for a reason like that. I mean, who wants to be that person?

After I completed my workout, I dismounted the treadmill and went into a bathroom stall in the locker room to investigate. It was official: I had an honest to goodness wardrobe malfunction. “The girls” had busted out. Or, as I have heard Oprah say, “my Pointers had become Setters.”

Apparently, my sports bra had managed to creep up over Lucy and Ethel, leaving them swinging in the breeze underneath my t-shirt. The unlikely event of turbulence, eg: exercise, caused a change in cabin pressure, so they had fallen out like oxygen masks on a plane. But, like Victoria, this was my little secret. I was the only one who knew what had happened, so it wasn’t as if I had to walk with my head between my boobs out of the place. I was just thankful that they hadn’t dropped so far as to hit the control panel of the treadmill, causing me to unwittingly spring into a trot by changing the speed.

So, “the girls” had been Hanging Around. Big deals. I heaved them back into the sports bra, went home, and immediately washed my workout clothes, taking special care to throw the offending sports bra into the dryer so it would shrink back into shape.

I am very careful now when I get dressed to go to the gym. I wrap those puppies up so tightly they’d have to sprout teeth to chew through my clothes like a chain-link fence.

No, I wear them close to the chest, now. They’re not always very happy about that, but it just makes sense to make sure my convicts don’t escape. As Janis Joplin once sang, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose,” but I don’t think she even wore a bra.

7 thoughts on ““Girls” Gone Wild

  1. I don't know if its kosher to comment about my sister's "girls", but since you've "put them out there" so to speak, I have to say that it's a melon of a story. I'm glad you have things under wraps going forward! Keep up the good work! Love, Your bra, er, I mean, bro. pc

  2. I needed a good laugh this morning, and you gave me one!Thank you so much! I laughed so hard, Lowell came in my office to see what was wrong!This morning I had to deal with a stopped toilet AND I fell down on the ice outside. Thank goodness I was wearing the knee-length sherling or I might have broken a hip! As it was, I cut my hand on a big pile of ice.So, as you can see, I needed a huge laugh to recuperate! Love you Leslie!MM

  3. as always, enjoyed your special take on the "special moments" of your life. your blog reminds me of an incident in mine. in the l970's, i made a business trip to San Francisco. i invited my Mother to come with me to share a few days together. the first night we dined at our restaurant of choice and then strolled down a street called Broadway. topless bars were the newest thing in that avant-guard city. every other storefront was a topless bar and the hawkersstood outside chanting "come on in ladies, come on in…."after a number of invitations, i asked my Mother if shewanted to go in to see the topless dancers. without missing a beat, she shook her head as a "no,"commenting "seen one, seen 'em all…………." at this point in life, the catch phrase greeting that many men exchangewith other males, "how're you hanging" takes on a newmeaning for us ladies, doesn't it? cheers and happy times to you. keep writing. susan

I love comments!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s