Dear Hardcore Bike Commuter,
I applaud your commitment to fitness and fossil fuel conservation. Your head-to-toe spandex, however, leaves its own brand of pollution: visuals I cannot cleanse from my mind.
I’m trying hard not to get an eyeful as we’re trapped together—awkwardly silent—in the elevator. But it would be a whole lot easier if you would refrain from shrink-wrapping yourself in a neon sign that blinks, “Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!”
I’m just minding my business in the office kitchen/hallway/morning meeting. So I’m not quite sure why you’ve decided to launch this full-scale attack on my retinas, but if you’re going for Shock and Oh! My eyes!—mission accomplished.
Unless you’re training for the Tour de France on your way to work every morning, may I suggest that a less aerodynamic outfit might be acceptable? Perhaps even preferable, once you factor in your coworkers’ ability (or lack thereof) to look you in the eye.
But maybe I’m misunderstanding your intentions.
Is this possibly a misguided attempt to appear more approachable? Sort of a “just-picture-me-in-my-underwear-while-you-give-your-presentation” thing? If so, I’d prefer you wore something less like an acid trip… I’m just a little distracted by the sight of psychedelic spandex strangling my coworker.
Or could it be a cry for attention? Do you need a little positive affirmation on your healthy lifestyle choices, athleticism and superior dedication to the environment? Believe me; your seizure-inducing bodysuit has convinced us all that you are fully committed. (Or need to be committed.)
Or maybe you’re just trying to show us your rebellious side? Screw the office dress code! Modesty is for conformists.
After all, ladies do love a bad boy… So sexy!
You know what else is sexy? Mystery.
Go change already.
Sincerely,
RJ
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