Until this morning. Once I was stripped to my fancy new 2(x)ist square-cut briefs (electric blue!) in the locker room at 6:45 am today, I discovered that I’d forgotten to pack my gym shorts. Fortunately, I’d caught an earlier bus so I had a little cushion of time to figure out how to fix this little setback. Fortunately, my gym has a fancy little clothing boutique right by the check-in desk. Fortunately, I had a $100 gift card I’d gotten for using eight training sessions in a month (a promotion that doesn’t make a lot of business sense to me, but I got $100 out of it so what do I care?). Unfortunately, the boutique wasn’t open when I got redressed and went down to cash in my gift card.
But the front desk clerk—who has a preternatural ability to remember people’s names and I stand in awe of him for that skill every morning when I don’t even have to dig my membership card out of my wallet—found a boutique employee in some back room and she opened the store for me and I got some brand new shorts and made it to my training session only one minute late. Whew.
I bought the cheapest shorts I could find at their little boutique. And they were still $64. Which still technically leaves me $36 in the black, but if I’d had to fork over real money this would have been a financially frustrating learning experience … albeit a financially frustrating learning experience that netted me some pretty fabulous new gym shorts. Apparently $64 buys you an extra dose of sexy because the shorts look really good on my butt. And just wait until tomorrow when I pack a shirt that actually goes with the shorts. I’ll have the $64 color-coordinated butt of death. Assuming I remember to bring my butt.
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