When we all were in Montana dropping the Boy off at boarding school, we had to take him shopping for school supplies, like a sleeping bag and a backpack for weekend expeditions. At the outdoors place, they had women's tank tops on sale so I got one for yoga and biking. (See below. This is not me, as you can tell. This is the model from the website, in case that needed explanation.) I never wear tank tops, but I guess the idea of dropping my kid off at boarding school gave me some kind of jolt that I felt like I needed to try something new and wild and exciting or whatever. So I bought a tank top. I know that is not most people's idea of wild and exciting, but it was for me in that moment.
Yesterday, I thought I might workout, so I put this on in the morning along with a pair of black tights. I went to pick up Fox from a friend who was watching him while we were gone and then Ellen calls me up for lunch. Instead of working out, I went out with her instead. I was wearing a sweater and a scarf when I went out with her, so the top was a little less revealing.
Later that afternoon, I am still wearing this top, though I dropped the scarf. I kept the light-weight sweater, but it was still pretty obvious I was wearing a skimpy little tank top. I was back downtown and I needed to run errands. I figured the odds of me running into someone I knew at Pike Place Market and World Market would be about 3%. For comparison, if I were going to U Village, it would be about 65%. Past of the joy of city living is anonymity--I can be out in public but no one knows me. I remember when I was living in Chicago in my twenties and I saw my awful high school boyfriend from Columbus, Ohio walking down the street. I had just gotten back from the gym and looked like crap. If I was in a smaller town, I couldn't ignore him. But walking in downtown Chicago, I looked at him and thought nope, I do not want to talk to him and I kept going. It was easy to justify that I might not have recognized him because there are almost ten million people in the Chicago metro area. In Chicago, I could go out and look like a post-workout gym rat and no one cared. I am sliding back to my city roots: who cares how I dress when I am running errands or walking the dog? No one.
Back at Pike Place Market, I go to buy my vegetables, seafood and cheese, and head over to World Market to get some hand soap. When I walk in, standing right in the front of the store is a Vice President of the company where I work. He is looking straight at the entrance and sees me before I see him and he says hi.
Oh shit.
I wasn't indecent but I was wearing a tank top for god's sake. This VP is super tall and hard not to notice and I couldn't sneak by and pretend like I didn't see him. Plus, I don't think I've ever had a conversation with this guy and I don't even know if he knows my name. I smile, say hi and walk in. His wife was at the checkout and he was hanging out by the front door. I figured he'd be done by time I picked out and paid for my hand soap.
Nope.
He was still there at the door and his wife was still at the check-out when I left. Oy. I had to made small talk for .025 seconds and got out of there as fast as I could.
After that, I was walking Fox in the same outfit and some tourists stopped me.
"You look like you work out. Can I use the bathroom at the gym across the street?"
Then I run into neightbors in my building walking down Alaskan Way. So much for the anonymity of city life. This tank top must be some kind of magnet or neon sign that makes people stop and say hi to me. But is that such a bad thing? Maybe not.
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