I do traumatic embarrassing things all the time. You would think eventually I would simply accept this as reality and stop caring when the next one comes along.
Not the case.
For example, when I got home from Crossfit this morning feeling energized and refreshed from a lot of mobility work on my legs, hips, hamstrings and quads, and realized that I had pretty much no crotch in my workout pants at all, I was embarrassed.
It could have been worse, I could have gone commando. Oh wait! I DID.
It’s possible my fellow 6 a.m. Crossfitters now know me better than my lady bits doctor. At least no one stopped me mid-quad stretch and said, “uh, I can see your twat.”
Next on my to-do list, check every single pair of pants that I own to make sure that won’t happen again.