Really?

A guest post by SB Anthony

Ladies – can ya help a sister out?

So, my pants ripped at the gym this morning. And I only found out because a very good looking man tapped me on the shoulder to tell me. I’ll explain what I mean by ‘ripped’. Oh, did I mention today was a squat day and that he told me near the end [insert snicker here] of my workout?

What I mean by ripped is that the entire seam that covered my bare buttocks had split right down the middle. Strippers show less [flesh] folks. I still have no idea how on earth I did not notice that I was exposed. They had every right to hand me dollar bills for the amount of skin I was showing. So, my question is: where were my fellow female gym rats? How is it that I squatted and stretched to an embarrassing degree without any of them saying a word? I think we’ve all become a little too worried about the opinions of others that we shy away from common decency. Either that or they thought I was making an epic fashion statement. To both I say, come on ladies. We need to have each other’s backs.

Lesson learned: Don’t buy cheap workout pants. But really I learned that I’m finally comfortable in my own skin. Even when it is exposed without me knowing it. If this happened 5-10 years ago, maybe less, it may have been enough to send me running from the gym never to return. Instead I thanked the man for telling me while I gently tucked my sweaty towel into the back of my pants. I proceeded to put away the dumbbells with my head held high. I even managed to laugh out loud the whole way home.

I’ll be back at the gym tomorrow without any grudges held. And, if I see you with runny makeup, stuff in your teeth or your dress tucked into your pantyhose I’ll let you know. Because I would want you to do the same for me.

S.B. Anthony is a freelance writer living in NC with her husband and three rescue dogs.