Let me start this blog post by saying, if you haven’t seen Bridget Jones, WTF. GO and watch it right now, and then we can be friends.
This woman, more than any woman ever in the history of film or literature, is the one I relate to.
My life is strung so full of mini ‘Bridget Jones’ moments, usually they just go un-noticed. Then one day, something so stupid and hilarious and devastating happens, I think “oh yeah, I forgot how much of a total disaster I am”.
And I am reminded, that I – like Bridget, face the challenges in life of someone who is a mixture of the following personality traits; clumsy and awkward – yet endlessly optimistic (probably too much so).
So anyway. Let me tell you what happened.
For the last 2 months I have been working out. Like legit. In January I did a workout on 26 days out of the month. That’s probably the most I have ever exercised ever.
So obviously, I used my self-proclaimed-success as an excuse to buy some nice new fitness clothes. I bought some nice leggings and some tops, and then headed off to the gym in the afternoon, all kitted out in my new stuff.
I felt like a new kid on the first day of school, all loaded up on new smelly gel pens, bright glittery notebooks and shiny Tammy Girl Shoes (showing my age, aren’t I?).
My confidence and new amazing gym stuff made me work out extra hard (which, by the by, is probably the only good lesson we can learn from this story).
I did an hour and a half in the gym and was killing it. Another thing that was somewhat boosting my confidence was how many glances my boobs were getting. I had noted at home, that this new top was quite flattering on the girls and it was quite nice to have those thoughts returned by other gym going people, who apparently couldn’t stop looking at them either.
I was feeling quite jammy walking home.
“Look at me” I thought to myself “I just did an hour in the half in the gym AND my boobs look great. Today is a good day for me”
I rode this high all the way from my gym (a ten minute walk through public places and busy pavements) to my bathroom at home, where in horror – I saw the real reason I had received so many ‘admiring looks’.
VISIBLE BOOB SWEAT.
This is what it looked like.
But worse, so much worse.
I had worked so hard, I had sweated right through my new gym top (don’t buy light purple gym tops people, learn the lesson from my mistake).
Suddenly it became completely obvious why people had been looking at my chest.
Because, you know, I looked ridiculous. My boobs were two big circles of sweat. And I had walked all the way home, without even realising.
C’est Las Vie.
All you can do is laugh right?