I’ve recently decided the best way to induce myself to work out as much as I should is to, twice a week, haul my sorry self out of bed around 5:30 in the morning, go to the gym then, and leave my bag at the gym, inducing me to have to return after work to do another workout. It’s been working pretty well this week, but I ran into a bit of a snag today.

Because my frontal lobe simply isn’t functional before 7:00 am, I’ve been packing my gym bag the night before. I was doing laundry yesterday, though, so I packed it as I was running out the door today. And I forgot to pack a regular bra.

By the time I realized this, I really had to go to work without stopping by my apartment. I had two options—born free, free as the wind blows, or nasty blue sports bra I bought on clearance in 2002. Since I have pretty severe issues with not wearing a bra (thank you, Department Store Lady who when fitting me for my first bra made gratuitous comments about National Geographic and told me I should wear a bra to bed), and because the Board’s dress code specifically mentions wearing appropriate undergarments, I opted for my old, ratty sports bra. It’s only a little nasty; at least I did weight training this morning, not cardio.

The brilliant thing about this is that even if one of my coworkers notices, they can’t exactly bring it up. “Hey, I notice your chest is a different shape than it normally is” just isn’t going to fly.