Underwear and the Art of Adulthood Maintenance

The train is coming. I am rushing. I can hear it. I am running. I am wearing a skirt, buttoned down shirt, jacket, and heels. I am a lady; I am dressed like a lady, a lady of importance and substance. Business.

It’s not me. I am the most me with my jeans and a tank top. That’s how I’m comfortable. I change “costumes” in my daily life all the time, but it always boils down to my comfort place- my jeans-tank-flip flops.

I can’t really run like this, heels are killing me. I am changing to the flip flops I always keep in my bag, while running (special skill, remind me to teach you how), in order to minimize my obstacles in making the subway that is rapidly approaching the station. I can’t run barefoot cuz I’m a lady. An adult. Now, if I were a kid, it would be a different story. I could avoid changing to flip flops. I would run barefoot and still look normal (but then again, a little kid wouldn’t wear what I’m wearing now… catch 22). But I won’t let it stop me. I am sprinting like a mad woman the remaining half a block and the stairs that I have left to gulp in order to make the subway and not to be late. Flip flops are not letting me run as fast as I can, but a lady can’t run barefoot, right?

Oh, NO, this is not really happening! Underwear, oh not now!! You see, I don’t like wearing tight underwear so…..while running, my underwear is beginning to slip down (no pun intended!) my thighs. My instinct tells me to just take off underwear and continue running. That’s the natural thing for me to do. But I am NOT a little girl! Imagine how THAT will be perceived on one hot & humid summer city afternoon. It’s more like some sexy scene in a racy movie.

Oh, no! It has just very strangely dawned on me that I am a woman, not a little girl, just because I could not take off my slipping underwear and run barefoot… That was a very odd and distractive thought that should be obvious (and IS obvious, don’t get me wrong), but still hit me in such an overwhelming and mentally gushing manner…..

And so… one flip (or one flop) flew off my foot and I tripped, trying to pull up said underwear.

And so I missed my subway. Noisy train leaving the platform just as I arrive, limping… My foot is hurting so much, and now it hurts to walk. And I’m late.

But all I could think of is how unnatural and costumed I feel when I wear that get-up and how there is a possibility that somewhere inside, I don’t wanna grow up. I’ve pondered that conundrum before, and I know that I’m not that special, as a lot of adults deal with such issues at one point or another. But oh- My-God can I be analytical….If I “wanna go there”, in seconds I am capable of convincing myself that I wanna stay a little girl forever just because I wanted to take off my underwear while running to make a train….

But apart from accepting that it has little bit of natural truth to it, and instead of beating myself up over it, maybe it just means that I just don’t fit in a serious corporate world, maybe it’s ok that my version of adultness does not include business “uniform”. Maybe it’s ok that once in a while I have the primal urge to run naked and free.

And maybe it’s all because I grew up in Israel, where dress code was always so casual…even at weddings people show up wearing jeans and sandals (sometimes flip flops!!).

Cut to – Couch. Home. My damaged foot is iced on a big comfy pillow. I am dressed as comfortable as can be. No jacket, no business skirt, no heels, and duhhhh, NO underwear. Liberated in my confines. I can still be a lady, right? Balance, as always, is the solution. I am soaking up all the physical comfort I need so I can go out there again, dressed up like a power lady of substance and importance.

(Note to self: When wearing “business” skirt, remember: very serious formfitting underwear, or if said skirt long enough- none at all. Just in case I need to run).

(Note to You: Try not to neglect who you REALLY are, even, and especially, when it’s challenging).