The Case Of The Missing Water Filter

I haven't taught Pilates in a couple of days and I feel like I've forgotten everything that I've ever learned. Quite frankly, I feel like a fraud. I've got a private session and a Mat class later this afternoon and I'm so unmotivated. I should be coming up with kick ass routines, or review my anatomy, so that when a client tells me about their torn meniscus, I can offer up exercises that would be good for such an injury, and NOT just tilt my head with a, "Aw, that must hurt." No, I choose to obsess (read:blog) about a missing water filter.

It goes without saying that I am in charge of changing the filter in the Brita water pitcher every two months. I'm very diligent about this because I am anal about germs, following rules, instructions and manuals. I would make a really good HR person... says my friend Muffy.

The Britta guide said to change the filter every two months. They even include a little calendar that adheres on the pitcher as a reminder. I also put it on the calendar that hangs on the refrigerator... just as a safety precaution.

Well, it was time for a filter change the other day and lo and behold, no filter, just an empty box. I was livid, I tell ya, livid! First of all, I would never put an empty box back in the basket of cleaning supplies that lives under the sink. And second, where the hell was the filter?! I bought a package of three and I know there was at least one left, or else it would've made it onto the "we need the following" list. Anal... your table is ready.

It couldn't have been my boyfriend. He doesn't even know that we have water filters, let alone, take one out, swap it out with the old one and put the empty box back under the sink. Although he has been known to put the orange juice carton back in the refrigerator with a spit of juice left. Then again so have I.

There was only one other person that could've taken it. The CLEANING LADY. But why? And wouldn't she think that I would notice, especially since it was the last one? If she had thrown the box out, then maybe, just maybe, I might've thought that I forgot to put it on the "we need the following" list.

In any case, I decided not to confront her because I didn't have any forensic evidence. But she better watch her back because I'm onto her. She doesn't exactly have a clean record. For one thing, when she cleans, she puts things 'away'... in drawers, cabinets and closets. The first time she cleaned, I couldn't find anything. It's terribly annoying and she should NOT be opening my drawers... nightstand or kitchen.

So, when she came to clean yesterday, I laid it on the line. It might've come out a bit harsh because I was thinking about my missing water filter. I told her that on no uncertain terms should she put anything away. Lift, clean, and put back down.

And Here's To You Lululemon

I have to thank Lululemon for their Wunder Groove Crop pants, with inner stash pocket, flat seamed stitching (to prevent chafing) and extra padding in the crotch area, because sitting at Starbucks's, I sneezed and peed my pants.

I know I shouldn't be embarrassed, after all Whoopi Goldberg brought LBL (light bladder leakage) into the mainstream. Stream. Get it. http://nymag.com/daily/entertainment/2010/03/see_whoopi_goldbergs_bladder_l.html But let's face it, it's not cool to lose control of your bodily functions in public.

I was sitting on a wood chair, working on my laptop, because, what else is there to do at Starbuck's? The coffee tastes burnt and smells burnt, so I’m not there for the Joe. But they do have free WiFi and it's a great place to people watch.

So, I sneezed and it felt like I fully made my pants, as if I was sitting on the toilet. It did not feel like a trickle or 'light leakage'. I was convinced that I was sitting in a pool of my own urine. Charming AND sexy.

This was bothersome and frustrating for a couple of reasons. For one thing, I MADE IN MY PANTS IN PUBLIC! The last time I made in my pants I was at a roller rink (old school, four wheels) in 7th grade, skating to Donna Summer's, "Last Dance", when my friend Debby said something so funny, that I, well, peed in my my pants. I was able to Kegel just in time to prevent the 'stream' from dribbling down my leg. Luckily I had a sweatshirt with me and tied it around my waist.

I didn't have an extra sweatshirt with me at Starbuck’s. I could have made a beeline to the bathroom, because there were only a few stragglers milling around but there was a man sitting right behind me, who I was sure could see my leakage on the chair and in my pants.

I busied myself for awhile and then had to get to the bathroom. I grabbed my bag and awkwardly held it behind me, in a feeble attempt to cover my ass. My other hand covered my front.

When I got into the bathroom and spot checked, I was out of my head with amazement. There was no sign of leakage outside of my wonderful Wunder Groove Crop pants. Oh, I did pee, don't get me wrong, but that extra cushioning in the crotch acted much like, oh, I don't know, a very sassy, and comfortable diaper!

Besides being embarrassed, I was upset because I'm a friggin' Pilates instructor! My pelvic floor muscles should be in tip top shape. On my last gynecological visit, my doctor said, ‘Wow’ upon examination. I'll spare you as to how he came to this conclusion.

I can't rely solely on Lululemon to catch my pee. I've got to get back to the Pilates studio and squeeze, for when I sneeze.