Sisterhood of the Traveling Buttfloss
Well, that was awkward. If you read other ashtangi blogs, and if you read this one, then you almost certainly do, there's a thread going on in a couple of them about giving each other underwear. Like most internet threads, it's hard to explain in a rational way how that train of thought got a life of its own, but needless to say, it did. A couple of them even sent each other nether garments. When I mentioned that our studio had some underwear with the studio logo, a couple of these undie fetishers volunteered to have me share the goods with them. I'm all about enabling aberrant behavior.
After practice today, I went over to the basket that has the nasty bits. I guess they restocked it for the teacher training, oops, ashtanga intensive that is currently going on. I mean that's forty more potential pocket books waiting to be lightened. Instead of the one color, one style, one size fits all option that had been there for the last few months, there were now several colors, a couple of different shapes, but still one size fits all. That's okay. All ashtanginis are the same size. I dug around for a few moments, until i realized i was getting a couple of looks from some women who had been standing in the general area, talking after class. I grabbed a handful of stuff and headed for the counter to pay. "Oh, that's an interesting thing for you John", said Amy, the desk person. "Uh, well, see I'm getting them for these people that I don't know from the internet." She, gave me that look and said, "Oh, really. I just thought you were getting them for your wife." "No, see they have this thing where they collect underwear from people who send it to them for no reason and, um, well, anyway how much are those?" She told me and i reached for my wallet. Oops. I'm like ten dollars light. "I can charge this stuff right?" Right then, who walks in and stands right next to me, giving me that same confused, disturbed look? Vanessa, master of the EZBoard universe, world traveler and computer guru for some mega bank consortium, in town for the ashtanga intensive (TT). I quickly shuffled the small pieces of clothing in to an amorphous pile in the vain hope that it could possibly be confused with some kind of an appropriate clothing purchase and asked Amy for a bag. So, she picked up the panties, one by one, carefully folding them so they wouldn't have wrinkles I guess, and gave them to me in a bag. "Those should look good on you John", said Andrew, Tim's Mysore assistant, as he headed out the door. I looked over and gave Vanessa a weak smile, proffering the concept that I bought women's thongs all the time, what's the big deal. Why is it you can never get as small as you feel.
Being the experienced, smart camper that I am, I had attempted to kind of advise the wife that said transaction was in the offing. There's no way I could have bought that stuff without somebody asking her about it. I'm sure I'll still get hammered though. What seemed perfectly reasonable when in the concept phase, in the harsh reality of public scrutiny becomes another self kick to the groin. The things we do for blog people we don't even know.