I go to the gym every single day, even on my off days. Yes, this is more than a bit OCD but I am a creature of habit and enjoy the hot tub, steam room, and foam rolling on the off days. Our showers at home don’t need the soap scum removed but do require a good dusting now and again.

I keep all my workout gear at the gym so all I have to do is roll out of bed, eat breakfast, and brush my teeth before I head to the YMCA. One morning I went to grab my gear out of my cubby and my shoes were missing. I happened to see a piece of paper where my shoes were supposed to be. It was a note from a woman that took some shoes home that she thought may possibly be her shoes. She wasn’t 100% sure, so she left a long diatribe about how she took some shoes and if she took your shoes, you should email her. She ended the letter with her email address and a drawing of a smiling flower.

At this point in the morning I was not a smiling flower.

I found myself standing in the locker room dressed and ready for action without my shoes.

A huffy email was drafted from my phone demanding she return them ASAP.

They were returned the next day with a very apologetic note.

I promptly put my name on the inside of my shoes and made a public service announcement to all the women in the change room about the shoe thief.

A few weeks later as I got dressed for a killer leg day my shoes went missing. One minute my shoes were there, and then two minutes later they were not.  As of that moment, I was officially upset and unsure about the kind of women that work out at the YMCA. While I got ready for work after not working out because my shoes were MIA once again, I devised a plan. I decided to go out and look at all the women’s feet that were working out and make a scene when I found the perpetrator.

My fiery intensity that was pent up from not being able to train my legs was going to be unleashed on the shoe thief.

While applying my mascara, I notice one of my friends covertly motioning to me. She quietly let me know that a somewhat confused looking woman just walked in with shoes that looked like mine.

So I staged a confrontation.

I found the woman standing next to the shoe cubby holes looking bewildered. With my hands on my hips, I minced no words and asked her if she was wearing my shoes, and if so, why?

Apparently she was. She couldn’t find her shoes, so she opted to use mine. They looked similar to her shoes and since she didn’t know where hers were she used mine. WITHOUT SOCKS.

The shoes were still warm when she handed them back to me.

The best part was that my shoes appeared to be about 3 sizes too large for her. She had to batten those suckers right down to get them to stay on, which resulted in a Ronald McDonald-esque look.

I just have one question: Who are these people and how do they not know what their shoes look like?

Apparently I have the most popular shoes at the YMCA.

I’ve always wanted to be popular, but if this is popularity I think I’ll pass.