Today is Day 2 of my 5-Day Gratitude Challenge and in looking back on the day, I find myself most thankful for having a sense of humor in what could otherwise be construed as a terribly embarrassing predicament.
Here’s the back story:
I was asked to sub the 6:30pm Flywheel Bellevue class for my friend, Dana, and while en route to the studio, I noticed that I had the makings of a dime-sized hole near the crotch of my relatively new Fabletics tights. Great. I figured it couldn’t get much bigger and so I proceeded to prepare for class like I normally would.
Though in taking to the stage a few minutes before class began, I looked down to see that my once dime-sized hole had expanded to the size of, oh, I don’t know… my fist. Mind you, this was now a fist-sized hole INCHES from my crotch and I had to teach a class of roughly a dozen people in less than 10mins. I immediately switched into a different top that had a longer torso, thinking I could let it drape over my ladyparts while I taught, or that I could improvise during class and strategically let my towel hang over my leg to cover up my ever-expanding hole. Nobigdeal.
Class began, so of course I made sure that the instructor spotlight was good and dimmed. No one seemed to notice my upper inner-thigh hole. “Phew, I might just be able to make this work!” I remember thinking to myself, my thigh now feeling a bit raw from rubbing up against the bike saddle minutes into the ride. Though once class ended and it came time to dismount from our bikes and begin our stretching routine, I increasingly became more nervous that my hole had expanded to the size of a small Frisbee and that I would be exposed, pun very much intended.
At this point I figured, “Alright, Katie — time to come clean” and like a good Catholic school girl at confession, I informed my class that I had “a secret that I’ve been wrestling with telling them all through class” and proceeded to reveal my crotch hole predicament. Laughs ensued and in that moment I realized that something like this could happen to anyone. For my students, my hope in telling them of my issue was that it would make me more real in their eyes — more human and more authentic. An aspect of my classes that I always try to incorporate is my lighthearted personality, so sharing my crotch hole story in a light, poke-fun-at-myself manner fell perfectly in line with any other joke I would tell in one of my regular classes.
Yes, it was embarrassing, I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t. But I walk away from this experience feeling happy and grateful that I could laugh off something that would for most other people be incredibly mortifying. Maybe I didn’t need to share my crotch hole story. Maybe I could’ve just let it go and pretended that my wardrobe malfunction was actually an intentional Ke$ha-inspired look? But I decided to err on the side of authenticity and have no regrets about it.