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.