Sometimes, you like to get multiple things knocked off your to-do list at once. Like your spin class, your soy latte, and a just-because gift for one of the girls. Or your mommy-and-me yoga, grabbing that locally-sourced heritage-lentil and cruelty-free goat cheese salad you like so much, and picking up a new set of $26 baby socks for little Addison.
The point is, it’s a fairly common occurrence for people to pop into the shop on their way home from the gym, or a run, or the nearest mind-body spiritual pilates class (we’re in Camberville, after all), still in their workout gear.
I don’t fault them for this. I’ve been known to pick up the occasional bagel sandwich from my favorite local-and-organic-only coffee shop in a thoroughly sweaty sports bra from time to time, too.
But for Christ’s sake, if your plan is to cool down with some light shopping-based cardio, please plan ahead.
Unlike the pair of girls who were trolling the store with super-sized Smartwaters the other day. One found a card, the other a very-necessary set of nesting-doll measuring cups.
While the one fiddled in the wristlet she’d brought along for her potential-purchases, the other paid for her item.
With a $20 bill that was completely soaking. Wet through. There wasn’t a single spot I could grip (and believe me, the second I touched it, that grip became two-fingers-only) that wasn’t at least damp.
Judging from her still-red face and racer-backed sports top – and lack of any sort of handbag, wallet, or any other container whatsoever – I had a sinking feeling that this money was soaked in person-runoff.
A suspicion that was confirmed when she took her change and promptly tucked it into the back waistband of her biker shorts.
So yeah, not only was that $20 covered in someone else’s sweat, it was covered in someone else’s ASS sweat.
I know it may not be the fashion statement of the century, but if you’re going to do your shopping as Sporty Spice, do everyone a favor: get a fucking fanny pack.
No, your fanny does not count.