Blah blah blah I’ve been running and working out regularly again. w00t

Blah blah running vacation to the Grand Tetons (I’ll get to that in a later post, because it needs talking about)

Blah blah haven’t blogged in 5ever (I was afraid to jinx it)

Can’t get to all of that because I need to talk about nakedness. Specifically nakedness at work.

You see. If you are a person with a full time office job. And are physically active. You spend a ridiculous amount of time naked or half naked in the bathroom, conference room, or weird sort of back cube area of your office.

For realz, a typical week I’m been down to my skivies or less at least 3 of 5 days.

Monday: Cross train – nakey time at the gym. Office is spared

Tuesday: Run, post work. Strip off everything except the bottoms. Rebuild in athletic wear

Wednesday: Cross train – gym again

Thursday – Lunch yoga. I am incredibly fortunate that my office offers free yoga. And that I can go. And sometimes in the nice weather it’s even outside. And it’s not the most intense class but I like to wear dresses and those aren’t good for yoga. Also. Sweat. So again, down to the bottoms and built back up, though this time with less socks and shoes changed. Yay bare feet!

Friday: Run – again, near complete wardrobe change.

And then there are days like today. A run before work or a run to work that ends in a shower. We have a shower in the office (again, I’m really fortunate). But there’s something just a little extra special to be standing soaking wet in a towel in the bathroom your company shares with 5 other companies. And by special, this morning as I was getting dressed trying not to give a peep show through the crack between the curtain and the door opening (sidebar: have we really not learned how to oversize these curtains? For serious. It’s like a law of the universe that a changing room/shower curtain is never as wide as the opening. Let’s not even ever dream of it being wider!). I was standing there drying off and I listened to not one, not two, but THREE women come in and then have that stand off of “I need to do number 2 and I cant do it with you. Here” (damn, that almost rhymed). At this point I was dressed but had wet hair and no make up. I did the make up fast (yay sheer laziness minimalist stylez) and then realized I had no hair mousse so skedadled upstairs to beg from co-workers and dry my hair in that bathroom. Sho nuf, I walked into my office to drop of my bags and find something for my hair and I got met with not one, but two crises. It wasn’t even 8:15! So I dealt with those and then got to dry my hair. I wonder if those women are still in a stand off down there?

All of this is really to point out that at this point, I don’t really care that I’m naked. Changing enough times in a gym locker room or squeezing in a quick change in the parking lot of a public park (what? like you’ve never done that. Sure) will knock most modesty right out of you. It’s already so much work to change. Why would I spend more time and effort trying to find a private place?! Really, It’s more annoying than anything. Because I already got dressed once. And now I have to undress and twist myself into more weird supportive undergarments and a whole different pair of socks and then my earrings get caught on my gym shirt and the necklace I take off ends up in a knot in the pocket of my gym bag. Plus I have to carry that extra bag everywhere. Lame

Yes, I do now own some cuter workout clothes but if they can be worn in the office, they’re really not meant for a full on workout. And if they can stand the heat of a tough workout, it’s probably not something I can  pop into the board room in.

And I think the danger now is that I’m so comfortable in gym locker rooms sometimes I forget I’m not in an actual locker room. I mean, I’m not changing at my desk. We’re not giving out this show for completely free. But sometimes I run back to my desk after I change. And then I get caught checking an email. That needs some attention. And a half hour later, I’m sitting at my desk hip deep in a huge disaster of a document in a sports bra and t-shirt. And there’s been an occasion or two when I only had half my yoga clothes that I’ve just gone into a little alcove and done a quick change. I’m still paying enough attention that there haven’t been any close calls. But you know that’s coming, right? It’s gotta be inevitable at this point.

Maybe I just should just start wearing sports bras under my dresses and go running in those.