So I discovered this morning that the boxing class at the gym is not actually a tae-bo style like I’ve done before. Nope. You get your punching bag and you beat it up.
Of course not knowing this I didn’t have boxing gloves (a relic from TOD) with me, but I joined in anyway and ended up a)with sore knuckles, b)exhilarated to the point of wanting to go running (I opted for a nap anyway) and c)with the trainer person insisting that I stay an extra half hour next week so he can teach me how to train in between. I may die.
Then after a long day of being victimised by someone with a vacuum cleaner (the lady who works for us is awesome, but seemingly eccentric and spent several hours vacuuming the tiles outside of the room where I was trying to work), I got changed for yoga (because you don’t spend an hour boxing and then maintain the ability to walk unless you do some heavy-duty stretching) and found that my gym shirt (it contains a shock-absorber and was my pride and joy for two days before I got bitten by the dog and couldn’t run):
IT HAS A POCKET!
for some reason finding hidden pockets in clothes is one of my favourite surprises (only ranking behind rediscovering hidden pockets and finding money I hid there)
I have a pocket and I am invincible!