Nothing Gets More Real Than Wearing a Thong Backwards to the Gym - Twice

If I had to be completely honest about what I’m thinking when working out, I’d say that gains and hitting PRs are the furthest from my mind.  Most of the time I hate my life all the way up until I call time. That’s a true story.  And then there is this morning when all I could think about was the massive front wedgie created by wearing a thong backwards to the gym – again.

You might be wondering how that could possibly happen - twice. Or, better yet, why would anyone wear a thong to the gym? Well, I dislike visible pantylines as much as I dislike tan lines and going commando is a no-go because 1) it's gross and 2) deadlifting and doubleunders make me pee a little in my pants. 

Normally, putting on a thong is a no-brainer: the string part goes in the back. But this was a lace thong that

was moderately wide in the front and just slightly not as wide in the back.

And at 4:30 a.m. in the morning, in the dark, it was hard to differentiate front from back.

Don’t judge me.  

After the initial incident a few months ago, I invested in granny panties to be sure no part of my underthings would creep up my front or back end. But this morning, I had a lapse in judgment, wore a thong and despite finishing the WOD with ample time to cool down with the early bird crew, I left in more of a hurry than usual to take care of my painful situation.

Today I thought I was more prepared for damage control than the first time it happened; which, consequently, is the first time I learned there was such a thing as a front wedgie – and it is ultimately more painful than a butt wedgie. It also takes a great deal of effort to work through that kind of pain.

And I sweat way more when I am trying to cover up discomfort, pain and praying to a higher power to mask my smell if a coach comes within 6 feet of me to correct my form and technique. I am really good about seeing a coach coming and self-correcting before they enter the danger zone. But there was that one time I was hanging from a pull-up bar, and Coach came out of nowhere like a ninja and I played dead possum and crossed my legs, hoping he would go away before he could smell anything.

Then I thought, on a scale of 1-10, how weird would it be to spray myself down with Febreeze before a WOD? What if I just carried a can of it in my gym bag? That would alleviate at least one problem. But, I digress.

By that particular WOD’s end not too long ago, the thong material had wedged so far in, I was sweating from trying to hide the pain and discomfort (and worrying about the possible appearance of having a camel toe) than from the actual workout. To make the experience worse, I also hadn’t shaved in a few weeks (#singlelife), so as anyone could imagine (or not), the chafing of the material against skin and hair was like getting a #slowBrazilian. I was sweating profusely from my eyes as I made my way to the bathroom.

My lady business was raw and numb until I tried to ease the wedgie out and then I realized the real pain

would happen when trying to disengage the lacy fabric from every crevice from which it had embedded like a deep cover operative in Russia during the Cold War.

At first, I tugged gingerly; trying to loosen it up, but it was taking too long. I didn’t want to stay in the bathroom so long that anyone who knew I was the one in there would think I was ‘dropping bottom’ (girls don’t do that). So, in the end, and out of desperation, I ripped it like a band-aid – and immediately regretted that decision as I dropped to my knees on the floor, in pain, praying to God in Heaven, Jesus, Mary and Joseph … but quietly, so no one would hear me.

When I had finally released my thong from the inner-most folds of my lady parts, I swore I’d never wear another thong to the gym again.

Until this morning; I was running behind and could not find a pair of granny panties to save my life and somehow chose the same thong I wore those many months ago when I made the first mistake. 

And there were an a**load (no pun intended) of wall squats and thrusters and a 1000 meter run.

That lace thong became a resident of my lady business from the time I started the run and only continued to make a case for permanent residency as the WOD progressed through 50 thrusters, 30 awkward pull-ups (you can't shake a front wedgie out, btw) and so many wall squats in addition to pushups and situps. It was like being sawed in half. But I made it and afterwards, I didn’t even try to fix myself at the gym. Instead, I went home and hopped in the shower, hoping the water would loosen it up so it would disengage on it's own.

And that was another regrettable decision in my unfortunate situation; especially after the water rinsed the soap down my body and over my chafed bits and pieces. I might as well have doused my business in lighter fluid and lit a match.

Now, I’m at work, grateful for being able to stand up at my desk, so I don’t have to put any pressure on my nether regions by sitting. I have also made a conscious choice to wear granny panties #forlife. Turn your nose up in disgust if you must, but I’m here to tell you there is no better feeling than not having anything wedge up your no-no parts. One day I will have to engage in the naughty business should I find myself in a relationship - and nothing is more unsightly than a vagina mangled by a thong.

Even granny panties.

#truth