Wednesday, August 06, 2008

Exposed

So last night I was at the gym* for some cardio in the hopes that an hour on the elliptical machine could perhaps reattach a few years to my life expectancy, the ones I'd lopped off at lunch by consuming a box of SteakUmms**. I swiped my membership card, the beep echoing in the mostly empty lobby. There were only two people passing through, one--in keeping with the Y's grand tradition of hiring the mentally unstable--was holding a vacuum cleaner upside down and running it across the ceiling tiles.

The other was a man I'd never seen before. He was hott-with-two-t's, with volleyball-sized shoulders and eyes the same deep shade as a Blue Raspberry Icee, the finest of all slush-based beverages. His shaved head made him look a bit like Matt Holliday of the Colorado Rockies, although without the prevailing scent of Jesus and wholesomeness. We made eye contact--which sent me into a panic, which sent me careening into the side of the membership desk--so he probably thought I was there to help dust the drop ceiling.

Finally I made it upstairs. The air was damp and heavy, like walking into a dryer vent or someone's descending colon. I staked out an elliptical and considered my entertainment options--either to watch the closed captioning scroll across the muted mouth of Larry King or read the last magazine left in the rack, a dirty, dog-eared copy of Prevention from the latter half of 1974. I took door number two.

I was five minutes into the Gluteal II program and five pages into an article about osteoporosis when he walked into the room (the hot guy, not the vacuumer). He caught my eye again and I gave him a calculated half-smile that I hoped looked both flirtatious and alluring but may have made him think I had Bell's Palsy. He smiled back (!) and walked past me once, twice, three times is creepy before settling on the neglected mats in the corner to do some crunches and catch meningitis. I thumbed past a few pictures of Susan Sarandon and coyly looked to see if he was looking at me. He was.

He turned over to do a set of pushups, stood up and--Christcakes!--he started walking toward me. I was trying to be nonchalant while frantically flipping pages in the magazine, trying to find one that didn't involve the phrase "vaginal dryness" when he stopped in front of my machine. "Hiiiii," I said, drawing it out like a supersized sweet tea.

He gave me a quick closed mouth smile in return before leaning in close to me, his head dangerously close to an ad for Fleet enemas. "Hey, look, I debated whether to come over here--"

But you did, I thought, because you're already smitten by my elliptical skills or my Thom Yorke haircut or maybe you can smell the scent of Steakumm radiating from my skin. "I," I thought to myself, "Am irresistible."

I licked my lips. He continued. "But I thought you'd want to know".

"Want to know what," I asked, sure that he was going to say that he'd fallen for me already and had written a sonnet in ringworms on the ab mat or he'd traced the names of our unborn children unadopted dogs in the dust beneath the water fountain.

I waited, batting my L'oreal-encrusted lashes at him.

"Um. Your shorts."

"Excuse me? My what?"

"Your shorts," he repeated, pointing at my haunches.

Please hold for wardrobe clarification. I was wearing my Last Resort Shorts, a pair of mustard-colored freebies I'd gotten from the Saucony rep after he very politely explained that I'd been mispronouncing their name for the past six months. They are a style referred to as "splits" that are frequently worn by elite runners*** and frequently worn by me when everything else is in the hamper.

I looked down to see what he was talking about, totally prepared to pronounce the brand name not only correctly but with a Trebek-ian flourish when I saw what he was pointing to.

My ass.

My fully exposed ass.

Before I coming upstairs, I'd taken a bio break, waiting patiently for an available stall behind a naked woman whose ungroomed, unruly, um, personal areas were quite possibly hiding the Viet Cong. A line of similar sullen Sascrotches had formed behind me, so when it was my turn to tap a kidney, I hurriedly did my biz and had somehow tucked an ENTIRE SIDE FLAP of the shorts into the inside liner, so the right half of my humps were hanging out, the splits of the shorts parted like a theatre curtain drawn back to reveal the opening act of a tragedy called "My Bony Ass".

I was mortified. There's no way to move from that--from "Hi, thank you for pointing out that my bumper was visible to everyone in the gym"--with any grace. At best, you know he's seen your exposed extremities. At worst, he'll stand there and watch as you clumsily pick the shorts out of your crevice. Aaaand of course that's what he did.

"I just thought you'd want to know," he said.

"Well, um, thanks," I told him in a tiny voice.

He gave me a sad smile and clasped his hands in front of him like he was talking to the only kid on the t-ball team who wasn't getting an end-of-season trophy. "Well, just promise that you'll let me know if that ever happens to me."

"Oh yeah, sure", I lied, fully aware that I not only would I never be returning to this gym, if I even saw this man again I would hit him with my car.

I finished the rest of my workout without incident and walked back downstairs to the lobby. The Ceiling Sweeper was sitting on the small stained sofa in front of the television, watching an endless loop of Powerpointed programming. Tonight's episode was a rerun of "The Pool Has Been Closed For Cleaning." He turned and stared at me, his vacuum resting at his feet like a well-trained terrier. I was a Smurf length from the door when I heard him say "Looks like you fixed your shorts". I didn't turn around, didn't break stride. I just shoved the door open harder than necessary and wished that I was already home.

*Of course I was at the gym. Where else would I be, other than shopping for appliances with my boyfriend Hugh Laurie or maybe sitting in front of the mirror brushing my hair one hundred times and quietly weeping.
** My general rule for nutrition is that if it's not advertised on the hood of a NASCAR, I'm not interested in eating it. Sorry, vegetables.
*** See, since they're not stitched together on the side, the overlapping fabric allows for freedom of motion. Yes, I have read that on the tag of something we sell at the store.

53 comments:

Ben said...

See...if you were thinking clearly, you would have obviously said,

"Yeah. I know. My shorts are tucked into my meshies. You ready to go?"

Matt said...

At least someone told you...

you know, before you got embarassed or something.

Laura said...

And that's why I don't ever wear those open split shorts. Even if there wasn't anywhere for them to get tucked, I still fear the side slits potentially opening up. I don't care if it slows me down - I will not run when my ass is hanging out!

K said...

"Can I interest you in the other cheek?"

Xenia said...

With me it's always the toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe. No one ever tells me and I walk around for ages with it trailing behind me. Still, at least I wasn't flashing my ass around. ;) (JK!)

ÄsK AliCë said...

What?!? That's the perfect lead-in for him to ask you on a date! Can't believe he didn't pick up on that one. What a jerk.

The Dutchess of Kickball said...

omg why on earth would they make product that has such possibilities? Terrible.

Arielle said...

Oh mannnn. You handled that way better than I would have! Props.

Vanilla said...

You should have said "oops, how did that happen," and then tucked the other side up as well, as though you wanted them that way. Also, LMAO at "tapped a kidney".

Princess Pointful said...

Oh no....
You should have said you were giving him a preview, but if he wanted anymore, he had to pay for the whole thing! (e.g., a date... not prostitution)

TC said...

Totally mortifying.

But props to the hott guy who told you as opposed to the douchebag vaccuum guy who just said something AFTER the fact.

GorillaSushi said...

You could have just politely said "that's just how I roll" and gone back to studying the enema article.

Gilahi said...

I suppose, after all, it coulda been worse. You might've had the side of your shirt tucked into an undergarment as well.

Non Sequitur Chica said...

Oh no!!! How embarrassing. I probably would have tried to make a joke of it and then run out of there as quickly as possible.

punchlinewalking said...

Wow. That sucks.

A couple weeks ago I went on stage with mascara all over my front teeth. I had put it on my lips, mistaking it for lip gloss in the dark, but thought I had wiped it all off. I didn't find out about the black shit all over my teeth until I was in the bathroom after the show. Not one person said anything.

So, yeah, at least someone told you!

Jenn N Butter said...

Holy Crap! I have done that. I have this pair of shorts that are really baggy (could almost fit another person in there), and wore them to the gym one day because I knew that I was just going to be doing the bike. Somehow I managed to get the damn things ticked into the back of my underwear. Don't ask how cause it's still a mystery to this day. I didn't notice it till I sat on the bike (after a warm up walk of three laps around the gym, Ugh).

I agree that at least someone told you.

Jenn

notsojenny said...

"tap a kidney"
hahahaha
HAHAHAHA

OI said...

I would have just continued to stare. How often do you get to see some NC17 J-Money? Not enough, I say. Not enough.

Damn it.

Reluctant Runner said...

Maybe you inadvertently made the first move in some little known gym-oriented courting ritual ... perhaps you were supposed to ask him to help you untuck?

Tracer Bullet said...

Liar! Grape is the best Slushee flavor. Anyone who says different is looking for a fight.

And you could have said, "I know. I tuck my shorts up like that because I like skin-on-skin when I slap my own ass." Sure, he'd have thought you were crazy, but crazy is better than brain damaged.

margottobed said...

bahahaha sounds like something that'd happen to me.. i'm especcially paranoid and feeling paranoid at the gym because everyones so buff. ick.

Jess said...

Oh geeeze I'd want to crawl in a hole and die after that...

but I think ben's response is great haha

Your Ill-fitting Overcoat said...

this is literally the worst thing i've ever heard. my laughter might have actually been slightly overshadowed by my audible cringing. but just barely.

Elizabeth in Denver said...

That is fucking hilarious! You should've asked him if he liked what he saw. :)

Lisa Joy said...

oh lord ... i either would have been mortified ... or try to come up with some witty comment like - "yeah, and? don't 'cha know that's the cool new style?! HELLOOOOOOOO!"

(side note: i constantly make an ass out of myself, so i'm use to situations like that.)

Anonymous said...

Oh my God. That's is hilarious (for us), arousing (for him) and terrible (for you). And I think the ceiling sweeper works at my Y too.

I think this incident may be sort of karmic payback. This wouldn't have happened had you stayed home to write the Last Comic Standing recap from a week ago. I need to know your singular (hilarious, insightful) take on that trainwreck.

Andy said...

so, so many things to love in this post. Bell's Palsy. Thom Yorke reference. Exposed asses.
Truly enjoyed it; i'll be adding you to my blog roll for sure.

http://wildarschase.blogspot.com

Nicole said...

That is aweful. I am so sorry, but thank you for writing it out so eloquently. A friend of mine told me about your site...she is right, you are hilarious.

Maxie said...

well at least it wasn't hanging out at the grocery store or something. or on a run outside for the whole neighborhood to see!

Andrea said...

Just finished reading all of your archived posts - comedic gold! Ever thought about writing for Television Without Pity (dot com)?

bianca said...

You're such a rock star! I'd like to say I'd play it off like it was no biggie, but I know I would have ran out of there. Props to you!

The Clandestine Samurai said...

Baaaahhhh so what. You showed a cheek. If that guy was as good looking as you say, it's not like he hasn't seen one before. It happens.

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

See everyone else is like 'oh at least he told you'

I'm the opposite. I'd rather not know. If my arse is on show, I want to finish my work out then return to the changing room, realise, and then think 'thank god no one saw and said anything'. Ignorance is bliss when your arse is on show.

Great excuse not to go to the gym for at least another week as well.

wanderingtex said...

how have i never seen your blog before, seriously? i found it today and i have literally read it for HOURS. hahaha. (hope that doesnt sound too stalkerish) hilarious my dear. keep up the good work.

theloosemoose said...

It is for this very reason that I run not in shorts but in a full suit of medieval armour. It's heavy and noisy and sometimes leaves rust on my naughty bits, but at least my ass is well and fully covered.
Poor, poor J-Money

Joy @ Big Time Fancy said...

Holy shit. I would have decked the janitor.

Josephine said...

Oh dear God. You handled that better than I would have! I think I would've moved to another state...

hautepocket said...

Oh! I feel your pain. The same thing happened to me while walking down Hollywood Blvd. My messenger bag had pulled my skirt up to reveal my naked ass to the entire street. I have no idea how long my butt cheeks were flapping in the wind, before an ultra-hottie pointed out my wardrobe malfunction. It's mortifying!!

emily said...

Oh, damn. Gahhh. The anticipatory flirting makes it that much worse. You know, if it helps, I once flashed a boob on stage at Slappytown U. West Side Story, big dance number. I leapt, a strap snapped, and hello tata. The best part is, I had to keep dancing and singing for a solid minute afterwards. Ayup.

Sassy Molassy said...

Ah, now you've given me a reason why this runner will not be purchasing a pair of said "splits." I've been debating these fabulously comfortable looking shorts for a while, but haven't been able to find the balls (or guts) to purchase and wear them because you have to have a pretty damn good ass and thighs for that shiz. But now, I really have an excuse.

All the same, I'm impressed with you for sporting them. And thanks for the laughs. :)

Shieldmaiden96 said...

I was once forcibly ejected off the back of a treadmill into an unsuspecting step-class participant because I was trying to avoid the sweatfling from the guy next to me and I scootched over too far, stepped partly on the side, and fell down. I knocked her off the step like a milkbottle at the county fair. And my mortification forced me to get BACK on the treadmill and keep walking even though I was sporting three square feet of rugburn because I was convinced that if I went back in the locker room, they'd laugh at me.

Erica said...

ha. this happened to me before at a wedding.. i had gone to the bathroom during the reception and i neglected to make sure my dress was situated correctly before i left the ladies room.. i walked out into the hotel lobby and people were staring at me.. but i couldnt figure out why. i was about to walk into the ballroom where the reception was being held when some little boy touched my back and said "um. scuuse me lady but i can see your panties." he ran back to a group of kids playing in the middle of the hallway and I shamefully pulled my dress out of my underwear and walked into the ballroom.

thank god i wasnt wearing a thong.. someone might have thought i was trying to expose myself to innocent children

Alice said...

I f***ing love you. (But not in that way, right, you know that...)

*Renee* said...

LOL ~ you crack me up :)! Yesterday, I just made it to SteakUmms and then my A.D.D. kicked in. So tonight I'm back with a comment :)!

My Life My Life My Life said...

Too Too many things to laugh about here...I'm sorry. That reminds me of a similiar situation that I will have to blog about later...

Did you seriously want to do some serious bodily harm to the idiot Ceiling Sweeper?

a girl in port said...

so...how do you pronounce Saucony?

Millie said...

Wow! At least he told you... I would have been more mortified when I got home and realized that was why he was looking at me... so it was pretty nice of him... considering he is a guy. Some guys would most likely just stare. But, he should have tried a pick up line!

ingrid said...

ooohhh that's fabulous.

i have tucked my skirt into my stockings a couple of times, and exposed a bra-ed breast once...

but i do *not* have a bony ass (rather a fleshy one)

i envy your bony ass. :) i'm sure it looked great.

Christy said...

Oh...my...goodness! I knew this would generate lots of comments as soon as I hit the "tap a kidney" line...I had no idea you were going THERE, though! Poor J-Money.

I am a bit disappointed that you reacted the way I would have, instead of the much cooler ways I'd envision you doing (ie: making a date out of it, laughing at yourself & blowing it all off, getting some physical frustration out on something other than a piece of gym equipment). Perhaps next time? lol Sorry. =/

Dr Zibbs said...

I am that man from the gym. And I was going to ask you out but after reading this post I just found out your're making fun of the ceiling vacuumer. She's my sister.

BeckEye said...

I was wincing from the part where the guy said "I thought you'd want to know." I was sure that you'd just been a victim of a sneak attack from your Aunt Flo. That would've been much much worse.

Anonymous said...

Oh, sweet Jeebsus. It's pouring down rain outside, I am nursing a bonecrushing hangover brought on my somehow thinking my 32 year old self can keep up with the prodigious drinking skills of my 22 year old co-workers, and the Advil is not working. But your blog--and this post in particular--has me in hysterics. I can hardly move, but I am in tears with laugther. Thanks for making a shitty day bearable.

side affects of colon cleansing said...

oh my goodness.
that's so embarrassing! but kudos for getting through it!

&& great thing someone told you!

Cheers,
Blair