File this one under I, for “IT’S AWESOME TO BE ME!”…
So it’s last night. I’m in class. And I am NOT feeling good. I’m tired. I’m sore. I’m SO sore. My whole body is fatigued and my muscles just do NOT want to work. I’ve spent the entire Standing Series trying to wring every last drop of strength out of my strung-out, totally depleted body, but to no avail. NOTHING good is happening in this class. My body is like a wet noodle. My brain is jello. And I’m EXHAUSTED.
We get to the Spine Strengthening Series and I’m fantasizing about cool beverages, fluffy pillows, and a time when I can maybe sleep for more than five hours in a night, all while listening to my heart pound mercilessly in my chest and my breath slip raggedly in and out through my lips. The first set of Locust draws to a close and I lay—rather, collapse—my useless body onto the floor.
That’s when I feel it. It’s nothing big. Very small in fact. Just a teeny tiny little POP around the area of my back.
Unfortunately, I know EXACTLY what that is.
No, it’s not a muscle snapping. Or a tendon. Or cartilage, a joint, or a bone. It’s much much worse. It is… MY BRA STRAP.
The right one, to be exact. Like me, my bra must be very tired and like my body, unwilling to stretch. So unwilling in fact, that it’s gone to the trouble of slipping its hook out of its closure and SNAPPING like a rubber band across my back and now sits, flopping in the breeze, up around my shoulder.
Why why oh WHY GOD WHY!??!?!?
As if I’m not having a tough enough time! As if I’m not already half dead! As if I’m not already mortified to be in the front row of a packed class and struggling like it’s my first day! Now I’ve got a wardrobe malfunction on top of it.
OH CRUEL ATHLETIC WEAR GODS, WHY MUST YOU TAUNT ME SO?!?!
I look around briefly. No one seems to have noticed. At least my belly is still to the floor, no chance of boob slippage… YET…
The class continues. We’re on to the first set of Full Locust. While the class moves into the pose, I frantically reach around my back for my broken bra strap, trying with all the coordination I can muster to stretch it across my back and slip it into the tiny hook-and-eye fixture on the other side. I feel a strange sense of guilt over not being in the pose with the rest of the class, but at the same time would hate for one of my ladyparts to pop out of my unhooked top as I’m stretching my chest up and back.
It’s not so much that I’m modest. PLEASE, I’m practically naked in class already. It’s just that I feel flashing the class may be slightly inappropriate and might—just MIGHT—make others a smidge uncomfortable. Yes, that’s right, I have everyone’s best interest in mind here. YOU’RE WELCOME.
I hear giggling behind me. Clearly, people are taking note of the lunatic girl in the front row whose clothes are falling off.
The pose ends and as the students turn their cheeks to their mats I hear my Bikram twin Maddie* come scuttling over on her knees from the mat next to mine. My hero(ine)! She quickly grabs the offensively lazy bra strap and definitely secures it back in place.
"ALISON!!!" the teacher exclaims, a half-joking tone to her voice, "Are you TAKING YOUR CLOTHES OFF?!?"
"Umm… maybe?" I answer.
Class crawls forward. I jump back into the postures, giving my bra top dirty looks in the mirror the whole time.
You just try that again bitch, and I will CUT YOU, I will cut you SO FAST…
Oh yes. Once my friend and co-conspirator, my bra top and I are are now enemies. Lucky for me, it decides not to act out again, and remains firmly fastened the remainder of the 90 minutes.
So! What can we learn from this, kids? Well many things I suppose…
ONE! Before class, it’s good to make sure your bra is firmly hooked, fastened, sewed, super glued, stapled, nailed, fabric tied SHUT.
TWO! Always practice next to someone who’s a good enough friend that she’s willing to skip a Savasana and help you dress yourself.
THREE! Intensely threatening your clothing with physical violence will occasionally make it behave better.
FOUR! Perhaps consider wearing a pair of these UNDER your bra top, just in case…
Hey, that way—wardrobe malfunction or not—you’d NEVER have to worry!
*NOT her name. But we’re always in class together, like Maddie and Chloe from ‘Dance Moms’. So that’s why.