The other day I wore a shirt that I've had for a while but never worn before.
It was a pretty color of blue and had a flattering sort-of mock wrap neckline. I tore off the tags, threw it over my head and checked my reflection in the mirror.
Good enough. And off I went to drop the kids off at school and start my day.
What I didn't realize until it was too late was that while my shirt looked perfectly nice while standing, when I sat, the sort-of mock wrap neckline unwrapped to reveal my right boob.
Great. I was flashing my kid's teacher, my fellow committee moms, and my husband's friends who came over to jump start his truck.
Suddenly, I really appreciated my long hair.
I draped the big ole mess of my hair over my cleavage and pretended like nothing was wrong.
Now, you'd think that I'd have learned my lesson about immodest tops, but you'd be wrong.
On Tuesday, I had about 45 minutes to kill before picking my kids up from school and bee-lining it to their afternoon of group violin lessons at the local college. I was tempted to treat myself to some fast food or Krispy Kreme but I decided that a large Diet Coke from Sonic would be treat enough.
As the roller skating car hop handed me my diet coke the cup slipped. I clenched my left hand to keep it from ending up in my lap. But apparently I don't know my own strength because I crushed the cup completely.
And ended up with 64 ounces of Diet Coke and ice down my front and pooled in my crotch.
Now I had a few options from running home and being late to pick up the kids to skipping violin completely, all of which would have made my daughter bawl like a baby. So I decided to suck up my meager pride and run into a store for a new outfit.
Unfortunately, the closest and most convenient store was one where I had embarrassed myself a couple of months ago. I had something happen to me in their fitting room that I still have nightmares about. But time was of the essence and I knew I could quickly grab something there that fit.
I grabbed a pair of pants that were a size bigger than I normally wear. I figured the last thing I wanted was to end up having to endure an afternoon with the violin moms in pants that were embarrassingly tight. I also grabbed a v-neck T-shirt that looked about right. And some underwear.
I ended up standing my wet ass in line to pay for twenty minutes. I could have shopped more and tried things on in that amount of time. When the cashier finally rang in my purchase, she asked if I wanted a bag. Obviously she had spotted my predicament. She removed all of the tags for me and let me into a fitting room to change calling out, "I want to see your outfit!" as she walked away.
Great. The last thing in the world I wanted was attention.
I changed quicker than I ever have in my entire life. But I was appalled to find that while the pants fit they were way more low-cut and form fitting than I had realized. And the shirt? Hello cleavage!
I spent five minutes in the fitting room doing deep knee bends and lunges trying to get my clothes to stretch out. Then I practically sprinted out of that place with the clerk's calls of, "You look cute!" following me to the parking lot.
The kids claimed that I looked "beautiful" (suck ups) but as I ushered them around to their violin classes I was again grateful for my long hair.
Now if only I had grown it out past my butt. I could walk around in nothing but my panties and a sports bra if I had longer hair.