Workout chic not my strong suit

No matter what you might hear or see, I have not suddenly become a bag lady.
Never mind that I look that way, if you have seen me wandering, possibly limping, around the local grocery store in the afternoon.
The simple truth is I started a regular workout regime, and not a moment too soon. But, when it comes to workout clothes, I’m a slob. I am loath to pay much for stylish exercise togs I’m just going to sweat all over. That wouldn’t matter so much if I didn’t always find some errand I have to run after class.
I convince myself that if I keep my head down and hurry in and out of the store, I might go unnoticed. Clearly there are no mirrors around when I make this decision.
And even I know, if you go out in public looking like death on a cracker, you are going to run into at least three people you know well, and probably your old boyfriend. This will be especially true if you are a disheveled old broad slouching about in baggy grey sweatpants and a huge red T-shirt I stole from my son. It doesn’t improve when I cover it all up in my oldest, biggest, warmest sweatshirt.
I know it is Southern California and that sometimes looking shabby can be considered chic. I also know that both my pre- and post-workout look misses chic by a mile. All around me, during class, are bodies clad in snug yoga pants and little tank tops, looking adorable. I applaud their youth and style, but I prefer to stick with saggy, baggy duds rather than anything body-hugging. On some of us, it just accentuates the negative. Let’s leave it at that.
So why, when I strongly resemble the crazy lady from the corner of 5th and Broadway, don’t I just high tail it home, wearing my darkest sunglasses? Because no matter when I last went to the store, I always forget at least one “gotta-have” item. In my semi-exhausted state, if I go home, I will never get back out that door.
So be kind. Spotting me with sticking-up hair and running makeup, draped in shapeless jersey may be odd, but remember I’m being ecologically wise by combining my errands on every car trip.
Maybe I could wear a bag over my head.