The workout is finished.....
You have lifted the weights, completed the repetitions and survived the exercise that looked completely harmless when somebody demonstrated it.
Your heart rate begins to return to normal.
You drink some water.
You feel accomplished.
Then you remember:
the sports bra still has to come off.
A dry sports bra is clothing.
A sweaty sports bra is a legally binding agreement between fabric and skin. 😂
It has no intention of leaving.
You begin confidently.
Arms crossed.
Hands under the lower band.
One decisive movement upwards.
This works beautifully for approximately four centimetres.
Then everything stops.
One elbow becomes trapped above your head.
The other disappears somewhere inside the bra.
The fabric rolls itself into a rope and settles directly across your face.
You can no longer see.
You can barely breathe.
And for reasons nobody can explain, your hair is now involved.
This is the moment when staying calm would be useful.
Unfortunately, staying calm is difficult when you are standing half-naked with both arms immobilised and a sports bra covering your eyes.
You try reversing the movement.
Impossible.
The bra has closed the route behind you.
Forward is the only option.
You pull harder.
Nothing.
Apparently, all the strength developed during the workout was designed for completely different circumstances.
So you begin rotating.
One shoulder forward.
One shoulder backwards.
Head to the side.
A small jump, although there is absolutely no evidence that jumping will help.
At this point, the movement is no longer fitness.
It is contemporary dance.
A very experimental piece entitled:
Woman Regrets Everything.😂
There is always one particularly alarming second when you wonder whether you will need assistance.
Who would you call?
What would you say?
“Hello, the workout went very well, but I am currently being held hostage by activewear.”
Scissors briefly enter your thoughts.
But sports bras are expensive, and dignity is apparently cheaper.
So you continue.
One arm finally escapes.
This feels like progress until you realise that the remaining arm is now positioned behind your neck at an angle usually seen only in emergency medicine.
Still, you refuse to surrender.
You trained today.
You are strong.
You are capable.
You are also stuck inside a piece of elastic fabric, but nobody needs to focus on that.
Then, suddenly, freedom.
The bra flies across the room and lands on the floor with the exhausted confidence of something that believes it won.
You stand there breathing heavily.
Hair destroyed.
Shoulder slightly suspicious.
Workout glow replaced by the expression of someone who has just escaped a minor household accident.
And your fitness watch?
Completely useless.
It ended the workout ten minutes earlier.
It recorded the squats.
It recorded the weights.
It recorded the heart rate.
But it ignored the most technically demanding part of the entire session.
Until sports-bra removal becomes an official exercise category, I refuse to consider fitness data complete.
Because the workout is not over when you put down the final weight.
It is over when both arms are free and nobody had to call the fire brigade.😂😂😂😂
Silvia
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