So anyway, on Tuesday I went to the gym. Mrs Fles came with me but then went home after half an hour (as usual). I knew she was going to watch EastEnders, which meant that I didn’t need to be back until eight o’clock. Rather than shower at the gym, I figured I could stay exercising until 7:55 and then walk home in my gym kit and shower there. When I got home, I knew I didn’t have to replace the clean underwear in my gym bag because it was still unworn. The relevance of this will become apparent shortly.
On Thursday night I got to the gym and was halfway through changing when I realised that I had no t-shirt or gym socks (because I hadn’t re-stocked my gym bag on Tuesday). Going home and coming back again would have been a schlock so I decided to just keep my work shirt and socks on – after all, it’s only the gym and, anyway, I’m in my forties now: nobody’s looking any more. Well, they weren’t looking until then, at least…
Whatever, continually repeating the “I forgot my kit” excuse whenever I got a quizzical look, I used the gym for an hour (don’t ever do this in a shirt, incidentally – it’s far too hot and it really sticks to you) and then it was time to go home. Obviously, there was no point in showering at the gym because I didn’t have any clothes to change into… and it was at this point that I realised I was now going to have to walk home wearing gym shorts and trainers with an office shirt and socks. And it was still broad daylight.
As I left, I asked the receptionist if I looked as stupid as I felt. “I don’t know,” she said. “How stupid do you feel?”