|The shorts in question. Oh, and my awesome tricep muscle. Who knew I had that?!|
(Side note: I feel like calling them "small jumps" is misleading. They don't travel anywhere, but the expectation is that I'll somehow manage to get really high off the ground.)
Lately Wilson has been having us do Italian changements as part of the small jumps. In general, I have a very high opinion of the Italians. I could even see myself happily living in southern Italy. But these changements and I don't get a long so well. I'm more of a legato body, myself, so the power needed for this jump really doesn't come easily to me. But whatever. Wilson believes in working on your weaknesses. He's so nice to give me lots of chances.
So there I was, jumping like my life depended on it. I finished the combination and felt something weird on the back of my legs. I absent-midedly brushed my hand across my leg, expecting to find a hair or thread, only to find my shorts. I don't know how, but I managed to literally jump out of my shorts.
This was a completely new experience for me. I've never seen or even heard of this happening before. I wasn't quite sure how I felt. On the one hand, I was super-proud of myself. I mean, people say, "I worked my butt off!" all the time--but I sort of actually did. That's pretty awesome.
On the other hand, my clothes fell off. In a room full of mirrors. And there were other people around. I felt the same kind of embarrassment that I feel on behalf of those 19-year-old guys walking around with their pants half-way down their legs. I never thought I'd be feeling that for myself. I'm generally pretty good about keeping clothes on.
In case you're wondering, no, the elastic in the shorts did not snap. They did not simply bite the dust and wear out. They are perfectly fine. I know because I spent some time walking around my house in them today to make sure. I just managed to jump out of them.
I hope my toes were pointed.