Gusset

At lululemon a couple of weeks ago irresistible merchandising (and an extremely handsome and friendly young sales associate) lure me into purchasing a pair of “Light as Air Hipsters". Anxious to pilot this “race-ready” undergarment that promises to let “you (and your lady parts) breathe easy”, I nevertheless make sure it takes a spin in my washer before getting close to my skin.  As with any new piece of clothing, I can’t help but keep tabs, which leaves me perplexed when this jewel goes missing somewhere between the washer and the dryer.

At first it doesn’t seem like a big deal.  Surely this delicate microfiber “built with Nakedseam technology” has adhered itself to another garment in the wash. I carefully inspect each item in the load, coming up empty.  My hipsters are nowhere to be found!  Panic rising, I think maybe I haven’t put them in the washer at all, but vividly remember carefully orchestrating their placement for fear their “moisture-wicking Transluxent fabric”, silky to the touch, will be marred if they land on top of the heavy duty hardware of my new lululemon running bra. 

Distraught, I start retracing my steps.  Maybe they landed on the floor next to the washer, or in the dust behind the machine?  Maybe they somehow made it into the bins of stinky boy-laundry waiting for the next load?  Or maybe they escaped my thorough inspection of wet clothes and snuck into the dryer unbeknownst to me?  A closer look at every item in the dryer ensues.   By now I am beside myself.  Yes, over a pair of underwear.

I remember when I was growing up nearly losing my mind over losing stuff.  It didn’t matter what it was, but if it mattered to me when it disappeared I was on the rampage.  No stone left unturned, unable to rest until my beloved whatever –it-was was found.  This is a quality of mine I have struggled to come to terms with over the years, now back with a vengeance, in especially heartbreaking fashion seeing as the hipsters never even get the chance to graze my hips.  Not even once. So close, yet so far out of reach. . .

In talking with a friend, just days ago, I am shown some soothing clarity around my crazy obsession that has left me in utter despair over the most trivial of pursuits.  We’re talking about tenacity, perseverance, and forbearance, how I will hang onto relationships in hopes that I’ll find the silver bullet or the perfect philter that will make everything right. How I will search ceaselessly for solutions to problems whether they are with my team at work or with my children at home. I don’t rest until I’ve found the answer.

It’s pointed out to me that the same behaviors are both a curse that can drive me to the brink of tears when searching for, say, a pair of lost underwear, and a blessing paramount to my success in business and relationships, when applied to solving a particularly complex challenge.

Now this changes everything.  Somehow it becomes easier to show myself some kindness and acceptance (love, even?  Ack!) when it comes to my dark side as I realize that there is a bright side to this behavior that I absolutely need to hold on to.  Hmmm.I wonder what else this logic can be applied to?

The next time you want to beat yourself up over a quality you abhor about yourself, stop to consider the positive ways your life is impacted in other applications of this trait.  It might be worth a few tears over lost underwear. And this simple understanding may mean you’ll never need to cry over underwear again. 

We all want the world to see us at our best; our armor of strength and confidence affords this, but none of us go without those delicate joints held together with nothing more than chain mail. This is what allows us to maneuver, to be race-ready, and let our lady parts breathe.  This is what it is to be human.