Char (my
roomie) bought a lovely blue shirt that she decided she didn’t want. She gave it to me. I rarely buy blue colored clothing and
yet I have on standby a few pieces of jewelry to match any shade of blue. Not
matchy matchy. I’m not that person. Just matchy.
In prep for the day, I put the
new shirt in my gym bag and grabbed a blue and silver butterfly necklace. Perfect. I grabbed my fabulous black and rhinestone prescription
cat-eye glasses that would work well with the silver in the necklace and the
black in my pants. I put them on my head.
Not my face. If you know
me, glasses spend as much time, if not more, on my head than on my face. Then I dug through my rings and found a
beautiful silver and royal blue artsy number I bought in a store off piazza in Lecce,
Italy. When I slipped it on to my finger I got a pang in my stomach
and thought, “I’m not going to have this ring by the end of today.” I often have random negative
thoughts. It’s my gift.
Then I
headed to the gym. After a great workout (next to Mel Gibson, by the way, who
has exceptional calves but a surprisingly big pot belly), I headed back to the
locker room. Perhaps I’ve
mentioned this to you before, but EVERY time I change in a locker room I get
PTSD from my 7th grade under-developed years when our gym teacher
used to stand there and watch us to make sure we took showers. Ew! That painful memory never goes
away. Add to that, I still feel like I’ve yet to develop. So I tend to be hyper-modest. I’m one of those women that has perfected
dressing and undressing completely wrapped in a towel. If they had locker room burka’s, I’d be
first in line.
Before my
shower, I removed my glasses and set the ring on top of my bag in my locked
locker. After my shower, I headed back to get changed. There was one woman changing and
another seated on the bench checking messages on her phone. I pulled my bag out
and set it on the bench next to the phone woman. I donned my glasses and took a
quick look for messages. There were none. I put the glasses back on top of my
head and scoped out the corner closest to my locker to work my magic changing
methods. At one point, before I
was all bra’d up, my towel started to slip. I reacted quickly to keep it from falling but my glasses
flew on to the floor next to the woman changing. I picked them up quickly and
set them on my bag.
The changing
woman then said to the phone woman with a Russian sounding accent, “Can you please not be on your phone in
this area?” The phone woman was confused. Changing woman clarified, “Can you
just check your messages some place else? There are signs everywhere. I don’t want to accidentally get my
picture taken.” (I thought maybe she’d like a locker room burka too.) Mildly irritated, phone woman left and
changing woman proceeded to tell me that someone took nudies of her through
another person’s cell phone and made her pay $4000 to get them back. We chatted a bit. I put the clothes I needed to wear in an
accessible location in my locker so I could change with my back to her. I was so proud that I could carry on a
full conversation with her in such a way that suggested I was entirely
comfortable. I was not. She left,
none the wiser.
I finished
dressing. Phone woman came
back. “That was weird!” she
said. I explained in more detail
that people really do need to be careful and that things like that can
happen. I went to put on my
jewelry. I couldn’t find the ring. I looked for my glasses. They were gone too. I found my butterfly necklace shoved in
a side pocket. I looked again for
the ring. Gone. I looked again for the glasses. Gone. I asked the phone woman. “Did you see my ring and glasses?” She hadn’t. I emptied my bag. I packed my bag. I emptied my bag. I packed my bag. I looked through the wet towel bin where
I had dropped my towels and so had a dozen other women. No sign. I said to the phone woman, “Do you think she could have
possibly stolen my ring and glasses?”
“I KNEW she was shady!” the phone woman said. I said, “Yeah.
And isn’t it interesting how she didn’t ask you to leave until AFTER I
dropped my glasses on the floor and then put them on my bag. She must have seen them and wanted them. She got you out of here.” Crazy?! She
proceeded to tell me how this gym is notorious for people getting things
stolen. Even a gym where Mel
Gibson exercises?!? Humanity can
really disappoint.
I was
devastated. First of all, I
couldn’t give an honest description of the woman. I was so concerned with not being seen that I wasn’t paying
attention. Second, I can’t believe
I let this happen. In addition to
being hyper modest, I’m hyper aware.
And with my propensity for negative thoughts, I’m always on the lookout
for hooligans. Plus, that
accent? That story? She was a grifter. I had been "grifted".
I reported
the theft to the front desk person who called over the manager. She’d have the cleaning staff look for
it. I knew they wouldn’t find it. I looked. Plus, that thought that I had in the morning. “I’m not going to have the ring by the
end of the day.”
The ring was
special, but it only cost $15 euros or so. Cheap, but meaningful.
The glasses were prescription but not nearly as expensive as far as
frames go. $200. But I bought them
especially for my Route 66 journey.
They were vintage looking.
They were my first “I’m going to California purchase.” It wasn’t the
money. It was the violation. I was
sick to my stomach.
As the manager took down my information and the front desk people expressed their sorry’s, I realized and then shared, “Well, it’s a great lesson in attachment. As long as I stay attached to things, I’m going to keep losing them. I have to learn to let go.” The dude at the front desk said, “Woah. That’s a great way to look at it.” I was grateful to have a moment of reasonable clarity.
On my way to
my next appointment, the chiropractor, I called my husband. He knows that I have spent a third of
my life looking for things I’ve lost (that 9 times out of 10 turn up). Yet, his
response this time was compassionate.
“I’m so sorry. You must be
so sad.” Then he said, “You have
to fill out a police report.”
“They won’t
investigate my glasses and ring.”
“They might
not,” he said, “but if they know who was in the gym at the time, maybe they
knew who this woman is. Maybe she
had a record.” I said I’d wait to hear from the manager, but would probably do
it. I shared with him the
thought I had about the ring earlier in the day. “Wow. Your intuition is
amazing.” Yeah. That's true. That felt good.
Next, I texted
with my trainer at the gym. "Does
this happen often?" She told me it
happens all the time. She’s shocked at how much stuff gets ripped off
there.
I thought
more about calling the police and I’ll admit I had a little bubble of
excitement thinking that maybe I could stop some petty crime ring at the
Equinox.
At the chiropractor
I imagined what I would say when he asks, “How are you doing?” Will I tell him I was just robbed? How do I say it in such a way that
doesn’t sound like I’m being too dramatic? I was feeling really dramatic. He asked and I opted to just an “I’m
pretty good.” Because really, I am
good. I am at a chiropractor
getting a much needed adjustment that I can afford and I came from a gym where
I worked out with a trainer next to Mel Gibson (despite the fact that I would
have preferred it be Mel Brooks, but still, kinda fun.) I took a deep breath and felt better.
I left a
message for the manager on my way home to make out the police report. Then as I was sitting in LA traffic doing
some of the recommended neck stretches from the chiropractor, I remembered
something. I was wearing a gold
necklace too. It had a beautiful
lotus flower pendant on it. My heart sank. Then I thought, did that woman
really get my glasses? My ring? AND my gold lotus necklace in the one minute I
was turned around to change?
It just didn’t smell right.
When I got
home I emptied my gym bag again.
It took me less than 10 seconds to realize I had tucked my glasses, ring
and gold necklace into my tennis shoe.
From the time I had picked up the fallen glasses, to the time the "thief"
left, which was probably a total of 4 minutes, I had forgotten that I had
tucked everything safely in to my shoe.
Idiot. I first texted my trainer. “Never mind. I’m an idiot.” She's nice. She just told me she was glad it all turned out good. Then I
texted my best friend (because I had texted my despair with him too.) “Never
mind. I’m an idiot.” He responded with an "LOL" because he knows how often I lose,
then find, things. Then I called my
husband. “Guess what I
found?” And he laughed and laughed
and laughed, because he too knows how often I lose and find things. “But you just seemed so convinced this
time." he said, "I just didn’t doubt you.”
I was
convinced too. I had made up this
entire story. I made all of the
pieces work. That the glasses
falling triggered the changing woman to want them… and the timing of her asking the woman to
leave… and the phone woman buying in to it too.
And it makes me wonder how much I make up stories to make the pieces
work. I wonder what is real and what is not in all that I perceive. I wonder about all the stories I write as I go through
my day.
There were
more than a few takeaways from this entire two-hour ordeal. I learned that I am getting better at
detaching from things and that the old adage, “if you love something set it
free…” is true. I learned that there is a fine line between the stories we tell
ourselves and the truth of the matter.
I learned that it is really easy to accuse someone of being a thief when they have an accent (and I am horribly ashamed of this and have much work to do there) And, I learned that my gym, despite having famous people working out at it,
really does have a surprising amount of theft. I'll be more careful in the future. But not obsessively careful. I already have enough neurotic tendencies challenging me on a day to day basis.
And no, I
didn’t call the manager and tell her I found them. One, I was painfully embarrassed. But two, I figure that given that the gym seems to have issues, maybe
letting them believe it happened will put them on high alert. Maybe I helped them diminish the petty
crime ring at Equinox after all.
Yeah. Sure. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
