Who says you can’t wear heels to yoga?

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I usually go to yoga class during lunch. Last Thursday, I got stuck on a project and was running late for class. Hurriedly, I finished my work, I grabbed my yoga pants and ran to change in the bathroom, hoping I could still make class on time.

That day, I was wearing a black leotard (yes, leotard) with a black skirt and a brand new pair of 4-1/2 inch black heels. So I didn’t have to carry a complete change of clothes into the office, I had planned to keep the leotard on and wear it with my yoga pants. Also, as a space saver, I didn’t bring tennis shoes; I had just planned on wearing my heels to class.

So, carrying my yoga pants, I teetered my way to the ladies room. Of course, it was occupied. Occupied?! I have no time to wait! I thought to myself. I glanced at the men’s room. It was not occupied. Being in such a time crunch, I thought it completely acceptable to change there. It’s not like I’d be touching the toilet or anything, right? Just putting on some pants.

I entered the men’s room and locked the door. I pulled my skirt down and stepped out of it with my heels on. I didn’t want to take off my shoes, after all. Who knows what kind of nasty-nasty is on the floor of the men’s room? Then, I reached for my yoga pants.

My right leg slid into the pants easily, shoe and all.

My left leg was a different story.

I stuck my foot in the leg hole, but my heel immediately got caught somewhere in the crotch of the pants. I shook my foot, trying to loosen it from the grip of the cotton. No luck. I tried to pull my foot out, but somehow, it got more tangled in the pants. I pulled harder.

Suddenly, before I even realized what was happening, I felt myself falling over. I tried to regain my balance, shifting my right heel on the tile floor, but I kept slipping. Oh no! I realized. I’m falling! I’m falling in the men’s bathroom!There was no stopping me. I was going down. Why oh why didn’t I just take off my shoes?

Desperately, I reached out with my right hand, struggling to catch onto anything that would keep my body from slapping the bathroom floor. I tried to kick out my left leg for balance. Riiiiiiippppp! I heard my heel tear a hole in my pants. Great. Still falling, still reaching, grappling for anything to save me.

Suddenly — success! Within inches of plummeting to my doom, I managed to grab ahold of something. I hung there for a split second before pulling myself up. What am I holding onto?

A urinal.


Gasping, I stood up, balancing on my right leg again. I yanked off my left shoe, untangling it from the giant hole it ripped in my yoga pants and chucked it on the ground. I stuffed my leg into the pants and put my shoe back on. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. Half of my butt cheek was exposed to the world.

What do I do now? I asked myself, exhausted. First of all, I MUST wash my hands!

A few minutes later, I burst into the yoga room like a cyclone of terror, panting, sweating, my palm covering the hole in my pants. I promptly walked to the back corner of the room, spread out my mat and apologized to everyone around me who might accidentally catch a glimpse of my booty during “down dog”.

Namaste, eh?

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