The Giant Rubber Band Mishap


If you know me, then you know that I spend a fair amount of my free time at the gym. It’s not a daily thing, but I’m there at least 3 days a week. I’m comfortable with the machines that I use, know where to find the weights that I like to use, and have my usual areas all picked out.  I go, I warm-up, I workout, and then I stretch and leave.

Recently I’ve been feeling a bit woobly in my right ankle so I decided to add in some ankle strengthening exercises that my physio gave me last year when I destroyed my ankle. But I was being lazy so I decided to do the exercises while laying on the floor. With my eyes closed. While listening to my latest workout playlist.


I looked kind of like this except the bands weren’t held together. They were further apart.

I’m clearly a pro at ankle exercises with my resistance band so I don’t need to pay attention to what I’m doing because nothing has ever gone wrong in the history of rubber bands ever. Or at least, nothing has ever gone wrong for me…

Or at least nothing had gone wrong for me until the resistance band slipped and  snapped me in my lady garden.


Do you know what it feels like when you get shot with a rubber band?

Imagine getting cracked in the nose with a rubber band.

Except its bigger and it just shot you in the crotch.

It was basically like an over sized sling shot had snapped me in my lady snapper.

I had been laying on my back with my leg in the air and I was flexing my ankle how my physio had showed me. I was supposed to flex my toes towards me, then away from me, then towards me, and then away. Then I was supposed to flex from right to left and left to right. Except I never got to the part where I flex my toes from the right to the left because the resistance band slipped off my heel and I got cracked in the cooter.

And it sucked. I couldn’t scream because the pain literally took my breath away and all I could do was roll onto my side and curl up into the fetal position while hoping for a quick death. It was like the first time that I got my lady garden waxed, but worse because it was sudden and horrible. It was also worse because I wouldn’t have the satisfaction of having a freshly waxed downtown.

On top of it all, I wound up with a bruise that made sitting awkward for the next week.

I ripped my pants at the gym

camel toe

Front wedgies are fun…

As a tall, fat chick, I have the joy of never being able to find pants that fit me. As a tall, fat chick who has lost 4 pants sizes in the last year, I also have the joy of constantly having to buy new pants every few months because I keep shrinking in the wash. I find things that are long enough in the leg, but too big in the waist. I find things that fit my waist, but don’t fit my hips. I find things that fit my hips and waist, but don’t fit my legs. Sometimes I find pants that fit perfectly as long as I pull them up to my tits. And for whatever reason, sometimes I find pants where the crotch isn’t long enough so I wind up with an awkward front wedgie.

So I buy all of my leggings from Wal-Mart. They are cheap, they fit, and they are durable as fuck.  I love my Wal-Mart leggings. They’re comfortable, I can get away with wearing them at work, I can hike in them, I can workout in them, and I can be a lazy cucumber in them.

Unfortunately, like many people in this world, I love sales. This particular sale happened to be at one of the few plus-sized clothing companies that BC has. All of their active-wear was buy one, get one free, and who doesn’t love a good BOGO? So I wound up buying a nice long sleeved shirt, but there wasn’t another one like it in my size so I randomly started trying on leggings and found a pair that fit. They were comfy, I could move around in them, and they were actually quite nice. I spent a solid 5 minutes hopping around in them to test them out to make sure that I liked them and could trust them before I took them home.

They were nice. Naturally they were black because none of the leggings with neat colours or patterns fit me, but that was ok. I like black. The material was nice too. It felt breathable and light. I was actually really enjoying these new pants of mine.

Or at least I was enjoying them until I got to the gym the and started moving around. The material that was breathable and light suddenly felt flimsy and transparent. I confirmed the transparency by doing a squat in front of one of my gyms many mirrors and saw that my undies were definitely visible. How the hell did I miss that in the change room when I bought them?

But my undies were black and I wasn’t wearing a thong, so no big deal, right?


downward dog

At that point I was only 30 minutes into my workout and was determined to do a full hour so I carried on. I worked my way through some of my favourite exercises and decided that my leggings weren’t so bad. I would just have to wear black undies with them at all times. Or at least that’s what I thought as I tossed a mat on an empty space of floor and set myself up to finish my workout with planking and a bit of downward dog pose.

Everything was fine while I was planking and even though I was shaking I lifted my body into downward dog. I shifted my weight around and made a few corrections to my balance, and felt really good about the pose. So good that I slowly started walking my feet towards my hands to challenge myself a little bit. One step. Two steps. Three ste-


kool aid man

I felt my ass burst free of my pants like the Kool-Aid man bursts through a wall. The seam of my leggings split open in one quick tear. Just like that my ass was in the air, and it was free. My pants were split wide open and if I hadn’t been wearing underwear I would have been ready for either an intense mating ritual or a colonoscopy.  In any event, my leggings were now a tattered flag of failure flapping open and useless. My 30 year old bottom had officially been presented to society.

Carefully, I stood up and looked around. Thankfully there were only a couple of ladies in the area to witness my ass busting free of it’s prison and they didn’t seem to notice the event. If they did notice, they were nice enough not to say anything. Since they didn’t seem to care about my rear-end hulking out of my pants, I turned my back to a mirror and tried to inspect the damage. There was a lot of posing and twisting, but no one even glanced my way as I made the attempt to see how bad the rip looked.

The seat of my leggings were wide open and my first thought was that my personal trainer would find this hilarious. Again, no one around me seemed to care so I grabbed my phone to try and take a picture of my butt. Not surprisingly, that’s when I started to get weird looks from the ladies working out near me. I mean, I was standing in front of a mirror trying to take a picture of my butt…

After a couple more attempts to take a quick pic of my butt, I gave up. The ladies that could see me didn’t look at all approving of my shenanigans.

I also gave up  because I realized I was trying to take a picture of my butt to send to my personal trainer (trust me when I say, she wouldn’t have minded and thought it was hilarious too). At that point I called it quits, got changed, and went home. From now on, I’m sticking to buying my leggings from Wal-Mart. The gym is no place to risk having a Gone Wild version of Show and Tell happening.