Getting To The Bottom Of It: Megan Brown

Is Megan Brown our local Elle Woods? I mean if exercise gives you endorphins and endorphins make you happy…

I have exactly one Pilates Bootcamp class under my belt. I need to go back; I know, I know. In the said class I jogged in place with weights strapped to my ankles while simultaneously extending my arms and trying to avoid hitting the person next to me in the face. When I was not doing this, I would lie face down on my yoga mat to wonder what type of crazy person would choreograph such a class and at that very moment, that same crazy person would appear to tell me I needed to high kick or lunge or lift a car. Megan’s Pilates Bootcamp is aptly named. It was terrible to get through and I would do it again in a heartbeat.

There was kind of a running joke that I would never actually go to this class, and when I did, she played a Florence & the Machine song that I love and made the whole room say hi to me. Megan is warm like sunshine and makes everything fun. Planks? Usually terrible. Push-ups? Worse than planks. I may be the last person who wants to do either of these things, but if Megan Brown told me to do them, I would. And afterwards I’d feel great, because of, you know, that thing about exercise and endorphins. And because it’s Megan. 

The inside of her bag almost feels like she could be a nature documentarian. There’s a mic, every laptop accessory, and a National Geographic…maybe she’s going to sketch some wildflowers with all those pencils? Endless possibilities! The purse organizer is what really gets me. I’ve never seen a purse organizer that is actually organized; maybe someone’s bag will eventually prove me wrong. If anyone has one and is using it successfully, Megan and I both need a Ted Talk from you on how to make that happen. 

To me, the granola bars and resistance band aren’t surprising given Megan’s the co-owner of Mind the Mat, neither is the water bottle nor the electrolytes. Ticonderoga pencils were probably the most telling and here is why: wooden pencils are terribly inconvenient to carry around, let alone an entire handful of them. They are also the most charming, just much more exciting than a mechanical pencil. Cedar wood pencils are a dead giveaway that you probably appreciate a good drawing, handwritten note, and most things wholesome and feel-good. After all, there’s nothing more lovely than a bouquet of sharpened pencils. 

Through exhaustive research (read: absolutely no research whatsoever, just feelings and presumption) I’ve deduced that the age of persons who do not know how to write a check or balance a checkbook is about 23 years or younger. I am older than this and have balanced my checkbook from a comically young age. Megan carries a checkbook. She has accused me of not knowing what a checkbook is, which I promise is not true. I have nothing more to say about checkbooks, hers or mine and unless you’re an accountant with a purse organizer, you probably don’t either. 

Though I will not be expounding further upon the merits of balancing one’s checkbook, I do have questions for Megan’s father if I ever meet him. Does he miss his reading glasses? Does he miss his National Geographic magazines? Since she took his reading glasses, does he even realize that she also took the magazines? Was he the one who turned her into an absolute shark at Spades? I’ll be here, wondering…

Currently holding the record, her bag weighs in at 8 lip products. I’d like to give an honorable mention to the selection of bracelets, one dollar (folded, not crumpled) and a single Benadryl. 

See you all at Bootcamp unless someone finds the storied VHS tape!