I perfectly choreographed my day today. Up at 4:30 a.m. Swim. Qi Gong in steam room (and pray to God that no one comes in to witness). Sauna. Shower. Drive to Albany. Conference call. Four hour meeting. Drive home. Girls' night out.
Nagging feeling. Gosh, what am I forgetting?
Oh, to pack a bra and underwear in my gym bag?! What the . . . ?
With no time to drive home but with the need to stand in front of a conference room of men and only men (i.e., no confidante) wearing a skirt, I did what any reasonable woman who doesn't want her cooch to be the focal point of a meeting would do: I wore another (dry) bathing suit under my suit.
It doesn't get much better than this.
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