On the four-month anniversary of my first Program meeting, I opened my dresser drawer and pulled out the extra-large workout shorts I’d bought a couple of years before. They would fit, of course. They’re elastic. Stretchy from non-binding waistband to knee-kissing hem.
Yeah, but will my iPod weigh them down? the innocent angel voice in my head wondered.
In your dreams, sweetheart. The Lucifer voice was scathing.
I was getting ready to truffle to the gym for a resistance workout. My favourite bra, my no-longer-skin-tight technical t-shirt, the shorts, the double-layer socks to protect my blister-prone feet.
I clipped my iPod Nano to the waistband of my shorts and snugged up my trail runners. It was just after four, a good half-hour before sunset even in the depth of a Pacific Northwest winter, and still full daylight outside. That was my first mistake.
No, my second.
The first error was thinking like 165-pound Rachel. Or even 150-pound Rachel.
I started with my usual slower-than-slow jog to get my knees and lungs acquainted with the concept of motion and before I’d gone a block, my shorts were sliding down my hips like Britt Janyk on hard-packed snow. My breasts were wandering around inside my bra like Indiana Jones in the cave.
I had to drop to a walk while I unhooked the iPod and clutched both it and my waistband in one hand while with the other I stuffed my shirts inside my shorts, trying to halt the fall while avoiding the eyes of the people behind the wheels of passing pickups.
When I released my grip on my clothes and tentatively began to trot again, part of my brain monitored the position of my shorts while my whole frontal lobe dedicated itself to figuring out how I was going to do dumbbell presses on the ball without sliding sideways out of my now-cavernous bra.
Remember Kim Basinger’s speech when she won the Oscar? “Dreams do come true,” she said.
And I say, “Be careful what you wish for,” because I had yet another decision to make.
Would I suck it up and spring for new shorts? Or just ask Fodder for the loan of his string?