Keeping A Secret

I’m thinking of starting an experimental new exercise program:  The Sports Bra Allover Workout.  

With the startling acumen that usually alerts me to uneaten pie crust on the plates of nearby diners, I noticed that I often bust buttons off of blouses in spontaneous bursts of rapid fire.  The last time I took a deep breath at The Waffle House, the grill cook and three truckers at the counter hit the floor.

Therefore I instituted a rigorous physical training program.  I plan to keep fit with a weekly trip to Wal-Mart to try on sports bras.  Granted that this is a pastime fraught with danger, I’m going to approach my new exercise program with a certain degree of caution and respect for spandex.

Yesterday when I attempted my first fitting, I tried to pull the treacherous garment on over my head.  Turns out I exercised not only myself, but two elderly saleswomen and a security guard who thought I was trying to rob the lingerie department when the wretched thing snapped smartly around my face like a Spandex ski mask leech and wouldn’t let go.  My ears stuck through the armholes and I had to chew an air passage in the doubleknit to breathe.

Next time I’m going to Victoria’s Secret. I may still lose consciousness, but at least I'll go out in style.