Please celebrate the most embarrassing moment I’ve had yet:
I suspected that on Friday I may have thrown my sports bra into the industrial dirty clothes bin in the gym locker room. That was confirmed on Saturday when I got to the locker room, started to get dressed, and realized I had no sports bra.
I did a few quick Google searches and decided to rip off the Band-Aid and approached the front desk to see if there was anything to be done. But of course, who would be working the desk today? Not any of the nice ladies I’ve seen before.
No, a handsome PT wearing a very tight shirt.
It’s OK! You can do this!
I asked him where the lost and found was and I think he asked me what I had lost. Now the dictionary told me that the word for sports bra is quite literally a loan word, spo-tu-buh-rah, so this is what I said.
He… did not understand and I felt the same as I had standing in front of 6-3 yesterday.
I tried to explain what happened but then he thought that I wanted a locker rental. No, I already have a locker. It’s just that yesterday sports bra… Clothing trash… Put in… he started picking up clothes from lost and found and showing me but none of them was anything like a bra.
Is this blue shirt yours? No. Are these track pants yours? No.
I think he finally understood that I meant I put something in the used clothing bin. And from context I gather what he told me was I’ll never see it again. Luckily with that news I was saved from having to describe my sports bra as chest panties in any last ditch effort.
Normally this is not something that would embarrass me but in a foreign country where I keep saying BRA over and over to a good looking person who has no idea what’s going on? A very special language learning circle of hell.
About five minutes later we met again on the gym floor and he did the little nod bow though, so thank you PT sir for remaining polite. We can tell this story at our wedding.