I heard stitching tear as the super cute RB High Impact stretched over my shoulders. And the expensive white Stella McCartney bra that looked so good on the rack was so tight that I couldn't avoid smearing N70 foundation on the collar as I fought my way out of it. Black girl problems.
The names Keith Thompson and KTX may not mean much to you, but chances are you'd recognize the video from Facebook or YouTube if I showed it to you. It's the one with that super hype black instructor who leads those funky cycling classes, with dance choreography and rows of black women spinning in unison.
There I was, chest high, shoulders back and quads on fire, during a charity cycling class. The sound of heavy electronic beats mixed with ‘eighties’ melodies permeated the air and drowned out my thoughts as I pressed my heels through the pedals, matching my cadence to the upbeat tempo. Then it happened. I glanced up mid-sprint and caught the reflection of my floppy girls tossing about just below the neckline of my low cut Lole top. Ugh, seriously?