Dress Down

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See this dress?  I wore it to death. It was long, almost to my ankles, had a cute little belt and buttons that started half way down my back and went all the way to the bottom.  I adored this dress.

I used to have to commute about 45 minutes one way to work.  I worked for a big corporation in White Plains.  It was fun, but the days were long.  One evening, after I pulled into the driveway, I noticed that Dan from across the street was hanging out with my brother on the front porch.  Oh joy.  He’s such an asshole.  I was not in the mood to deal with him.

After I collected my things from my car and walked up the stairs to the house, Dan says to me “nice ass.”  Gee, thanks Dan.  You’re an asshole.  And yes, I do have a nice ass.  Thank you very much.

I go into the house and continue on to my room to change.  I reach behind me to unbutton my dress and the blood immediately leaves my face.  Holy shit!  I have just died.  They are already undone.  From the top button all the way to the bottom.  The asshole got a nice shot of my butt.  My thonged butt.  Thank God pantyhose were in at the time.  At least they covered up something.

I figured that they must have come loose in the car.  This is what happens when you love something to death.  It doesn’t pay to be loyal.  You just get shit on.  The button holes must have stretched out after about a million wears.  It was time to retire my beloved dress.  I did love you so.  Well, until you did this to me.

So, that was a major wardrobe malfunction to say the least.  I would say second to Janet Jackson’s ordeal.  Except I didn’t do mine on purpose.  I swear.

I Am a Do Gooder

I signed the kid up for tennis camp last summer.  Outdoor tennis camp.  In 90 degree weather.  With students who could rival Billie Jean King.  To top it off, it was an hour away.

Every morning we would sit in rush hour traffic, all the time asking myself, “where is my crown?”  This one certain morning we get stuck in construction traffic.  It wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t the only single lane street leading into town, but it was.  There were police officers directing traffic, but I see that there is someone trying to make a left onto the street from a parking lot.

No one seems to be letting him in.  What’s wrong with people?  So I stop to allow him room to pull out.  But he doesn’t.  I flash my lights.  Nothing. I give him the universal hand signal to go ahead.  Nothing.  Finally, I roll my window down and start waving like a crazy lady while whispering (well, maybe not whispering exactly) obscenities.  What?  Is he on his cell phone or something?  The guy isn’t paying a damn bit of attention.

The cop in front of me is starting to get pissed that I’m holding up traffic.  The cars behind me….that’s a different story.  Suddenly I hear a low giggle beside me and this — “Uh, mom?  You do realize that there is no one in that car, don’t you?”  Oh.  Geez, you could have told me…

By the way, did you know that Billie Jean King is still alive?  I thought she died like 20 years ago.  I found out because I was looking up the correct spelling of her name. I must have been getting her confused with Arthur Ashe.  Simple mistake. Anyone could have made it.  Right?

Hide and Seek

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One Saturday morning last summer, I was the only one up in the house.  I never get those mornings.  So I decided to watch a movie.  On our big flat screen TV.  A TV that can be seen at least a mile away.  In a living room that my husband likes to refer to as “the fish bowl.”

I have gotten into the habit of not getting dressed when we have no plans on a Saturday.  I know.  It’s not a very good habit.  This was my attire this one specific morning:  T-shirt.  Underwear.  If you show up at my house on a Saturday, I can’t promise you I’ll be decent.  You might want to call first.

So there I was watching a movie, minding my own business when the doorbell rings.  Picture this:  one 45 year old woman wearing a t-shirt and underwear nose diving onto the floor face down.  Then crawling by the front door, a front door that has windows on either side, through the foyer and into the kitchen.  All done in military style.  You would have had to be Ray Charles not to have seen me.

So, who was interrupting my Saturday morning?  Jehovah’s Witnesses.  I know this because I looked at them as I was crawling past the door.  2 of them.  They must think they are like a bag of Lays… one just isn’t enough.

As a parting gift, they got a very nice shot of my ass.  I’m pretty sure the image was burned into their corneas.  They never came back.  I think what they saw scared them straight off our street.  You’re welcome neighbors.  You owe me.

I am No Marcia Brady

If you liked my Cal-Pro story, you’ll love this one.  It’s quite obvious that my parents were on a budget.  So in addition to not being able to obtain Adidas, I couldn’t have Jordache jeans either.

What I did have were these totally rad gauchos.  My mom had a sewing machine.  Unfortunately for me, she wasn’t very good with it.  Every time I saw a pattern out on the table, I’d pray it wasn’t for me.

This one particular outfit stands out for me mostly because I wore it for my first day in a new school.  I was 12.  12 was a pinnacle year for me for fashion.  My gauchos were made with the stiffest denim known to man.  I believe the material was meant to upholster bus seats with.  What happens when you make gauchos out of stiff denim?  You become a triangle.  The top was a short sleeved shirt with an elastic neckline.  Why elastic?  I guess there was a sale on it.  Add in knee socks and saddle shoes and I am a total trend setter.

Honestly, I don’t know how I had any friends.  It must have been my winning personality.  Well, at least the saddle shoes were the same size.  Sorry, mom.  I know you meant well.  At least you clothed us.  But an elastic neckline?  Were you trying to kill me on purpose?  Gag.

Goody Two Shoes

Let’s go back to 1979.  Remember Caldor?  Well, do you remember the bin in the back of the shoe department?  You know the one.  It was filled to the brim with Cal-Pro sneakers.  Each shoe was attached to its twin by a really nice elastic rubber band.  Awesome.  Every 12 year old girl’s dream.

Yup, you guessed it.  I was one of the lucky few who got to actually own a pair of these. When all my friends had those totally nerdy Adidas and Pumas, I got Cal-Pros.  I was incredibly cool.  The envy of all the school.

The first time I tried them on was at gym class.  When I got them on, I saw that one shoe was a whole size larger than the other.  I literally spent the entire class with my toes lined up so it would look like they were the same size.  I’ll tell you, playing dodgeball with your feet pressed together doesn’t work very well.  Let’s just say I was an easy target.

I’m not sure what ever happened to those sneakers.  Did my mom return them?  I don’t remember.  I guess I blocked it out.  And the rubber band system?  What were they smoking at the factory?  Thanks a lot potheads.  You were a huge help in my development and for that I’m forever indebted to you.

The Belt

Yesterday I told of my daughter’s special gift of my leftover “incidentals.”  Well, at least they had a sticky strip to make her life easier.  Would you like to hear about MY hand-me-down?

Hysterectomies run in my family.  A tradition that runs 4 generations deep on my maternal side.  Anyway, when my mom lost her “womanhood”, she left me a nice surprise but I wouldn’t find out about it until it was too late.  Believe me, if I had known it would have accidentally died in a fire.

Mother Nature showed up when I was 14, sitting in my room, on the floor, doing a puzzle.  My mother was at work.  My father was home.  Oh God.

I called my mom in total panic mode.  She instructed me to go to the hall closet.  In the said closet on the top shelf is where it was, cobwebs and all.  What I pulled down completely had me puzzled.

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What is it?  A headband? A dog collar?  I could only wish.  For those of you who don’t know, it’s called a Sanitary Belt.  Honestly, I think it was a hand me down from HER mother.  And the pad I had to use?  It looked like it was made for a menstrating elephant.  Never mind an 80 pound teenage girl child.  Once I figured it out and got it on, it flopped about until dad drove me to the nearest pharmacy where he made ME go in and get some supplies.

Well, 30 years and many therapy sessions later, I’m over it.  And whatever became of the belt?  It’s hanging in the Smithsonian.  Right next to the torture rack.

Round Peg in a Square Hole

Today, after school, the kid and I went to the store to return a gift she had received.  I saw the perfect parking spot.  Here’s the only problem:

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Sure, when I was 19 and weighed all but 98 pounds.  Not so much for a middle-aged woman who’s middle has gone south with the geese and who’s as flexible as a 90 year old gymnast.

I thought for a minute.  I guess I can always just park somewhere else.  Nah, the kid is already outside waiting for me.  It would be way too much trouble.

I proceed to haul my fat ass across the middle console and over the passenger seat so I can exit the vehicle.  Oh, I know what you’re thinking.  Well, it didn’t go as smoothly as all that.  Here’s proof because my sweet daughter took it upon herself to snap some photos.  Stupid iPhone.

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After losing a shoe and a little pee, I made it.  But I can promise you, that will never be attempted again.  You have my word.

Fa La La La What???

As part of my Christmas present this year, my dad transferred all of our family video from when the kid was born to present onto DVD.  What a great gift. I couldn’t wait to start watching them.

So, on Christmas morning after we opened our gifts and had our traditional Christmas breakfast, DH, the kid, my parents, my mother-in-law and I sat down to watch a couple of them before the day got too crazy.  It was a very relaxing morning and I was relishing every moment.  Until we got about 12 minutes into Video #3.

Let me set the stage:  It’s Christmas 2000.  The kid is 2 1/2 years old.  She is coming down the stairs and my husband is capturing her reaction to all the presents Santa left for her under the tree.  Priceless.

Allow me to fast forward…

ME: Ok, let’s open the last one over here (crackling of ripping paper).  Do you know what it is?

KID: Yeah!

ME:  It’s your very own vanity table so that when mommy is putting on her makeup you can put on yours!  See, it’s got a curling iron, a blow job, make up, a mirror that lights up….

Wait a minute, back up the truck.  Did I say…”Blow JOB???”  Yup, leave it to me to turn our G-Rated family video into an X-Rated one.  All I wanted to do was run into the middle of the road and pray for an 18 wheeler to put me out of my misery.

The funny part is, DH even laughed in the video and told me what I said.  I completely denied it.  His response was that he had it on video.  Quite unfortunate for me, I never checked.

What did I learn from this?  Don’t allow extended family to watch old video without pre-screening them first.  I found out the hard way…

Embarrassing Moment # 3,195

Over the summer, a good friend who sells Mary Kay gave me a free lip gloss for being such a good customer.  One morning as I was getting ready for the day, I put it on.  I’d been dying to wear it.  UGH!  “What the hell?  I loved the sample size when I tried it, why does it look so different?  In fact, this looks like lip gloss for dark colored skin.”

I immediately texted my friend and complained to her that she sent me the wrong item.  I was so disappointed because she lives in another state and getting the correct item was not going to be as simple as driving over to her house.

Here are our text exchanges from July 29.  Lucky for me I never delete my messages:

Me:  I hate to sound like an ingrate, but I don’t like the lip color you sent me.  It’s awful.

Jen:  Really???  I’m sorry.

Me: I went to put it on for the first time this morning and it just looks terrible on me.

Jen:  But it barely has any color.  I thought it was what you were looking for.  Go on my website and pick a different one and I’ll send it to you asap.

Me:  When I put it on it was so incredibly dark.  There must have been a miscommunication cuz there is no way I would have wanted that one unless it’s different once it’s on.  Is this gonna cost u money?  I don’t want that to happen.

Jen:  No not at all.  What is the name of it?  Maybe I made a mistake.

Me:  Cashmere

Jen:  HUH??????

Me:  LMFAO!!!!  Don’t kill me….it’s EYE SHADOW.  Oops!  I grabbed the wrong one out of the drawer. I was wondering why it was so dry!!!

Jen:  ROFL.  hahahahaha.  You are sooooo silly.

Me:  Oh duh, that lip gloss you sent me is in my pocketbook.  I’ve been using it for a week.

Jen:  Are you drinking?

No, I wasn’t drinking, but maybe I should have been.