Awhile back, I shared this on Facebook:
In response to which reader Shara made this comment:
And if you are Julia, your slip is down around your knees or some other dress malfunction has occurred.
/facepalm/ Busted. Totally busted. She's spot on, Shara is.......which made me recall a post from 2011.
For those that haven't read about my unfortunate track record with certain types of ladies' undergarments, (slips, to be specific), let me refresh your memory:
I've come to a conclusion about myself, and it's this:
I was simply not meant to dress nicely and act in a normal fashion. Ever. I try to act like a well-mannered person, really, I do. But in spite of everything that I do to try to prepare for and minimize the possibility of.....um....embarrassing incidents made in a very public place, they still happen to me. All the time. I've decided that it's just all beyond my control.
Here's how I arrived at this revelation.
So last weekend, Terese and Greg asked John and I to gussy up and be their guests at a dinner honoring them for their work with a Catholic university program. It was a beautiful white linen semi-formal kind of an event and I was determined to do two things:
First - not to wear anything stupid.
Secondly - not to do anything stupid.
In my quest to achieve objective number one, I threw myself into the hands of a salesperson in a reputable dress store in search of a not-stupid looking dress. We settled on a simple and comfortable plum dress, accessorized with a matching necklace and earrings. I agonized over my reflection in the dressing room mirror.
"Honey?" the saleslady peeked through the curtain partition. "I think you should take off those argyle knee high socks. You really can't get the full effect with those things on. Oh, and...." she thrust a hanger into the dressing room on which was a pair of Spanx. You know, the things that they used to call girdles. ".....put this on."
Oh. Um, I don't think that will make much of a difference.
She poked her head into the room and looked sternly at me over the top of her glasses. "Yes. Yes, it will. Trust me."
Fine. I struggled into the stupid thing and had to admit that while it didn't actually give me a waistline, at least it smoothed out some of the largest lumps and bumps.
"What are you wearing for shoes?" She was back.
Oh, I don't know. I think I have some dress shoes at home.
"Well, if you want my advice, since you did ask, this dress simply MUST be worn with black kitten heels."
Kitten heels?
Ah. That's what they call pumps these days.
So Saturday night, I squeezed myself into a stupid pair of pantyhose, then the dumb stupid pair of Spanx, pulled on a slip, then finally my dress. I slipped my feet into my black kitten heels and we were off.
Terese and Greg were impressively honored and made a fabulous speech, John looked dashing in his suit, the dinner was delicious, and to my delight, the white wine which was served didn't make me feel like barfing. Just before the event drew to a close, I was feeling somewhat smug. Even though our dinner table was directly in front of the large crowd, I hadn't goobered, or fallen over, or anything. It was a great evening.
Wow. Could I possibly escape this evening unscathed by doofus-ness?
Then I made the unfortunate decision that it was a good time to head over to the bathroom. I stood in front of the full length mirror in the lady's powder room, and under the influence of three glasses of the aforementioned wine, gee. Suddenly the dress and dumb stupid Spanx didn't look as bad as I thought. Actually, not bad. Not bad at all.
As I sashayed out of the bathroom and headed back to our table, I felt a strange wispy sensation that went down the length of my legs. Hm, I thought. That's odd.
I felt something swish lightly around my ankles, and then...well golly. My feet just weren't walking...right....
Oh. My. Gosh.
I looked down at my fabulous black kitten heels aghast. My dumb stupid half-slip had just SLIPPED IT'S WAY DOWN MY LEGS AND ONTO THE FLOOR.
Yes. I had publicly lost my undergarment in front of several of the priests of our diocese as well as other upstanding Catholic honorees and their families.
I looked at the ground, my feet covered in a puddle of black silk and was momentarily frozen in shock. (I had the surreal thought that it contrasted quite nicely with the cream colored carpet, actually.)
I'm certain that I wasn't the only person shocked. Panic stricken, I looked up at the dinner table next to me directly into the eyes of a very nice looking young man. He threw up his hands over his face.
"I didn't see A THING. NOT. A. THING." he said, looking rather embarrassed yet quite amused.
Blushing furiously, I scooped up my dumb stupid slip from the floor, stuffed it into my purse, and stomped off to our table.
I suppose that anyone else who would have had this incredible misfortune would have probably furtively stowed the slip away and then quietly taken her seat.
Me? Not a chance.
I was so flustered that as I approached Terese, Greg, and our other friends, I grabbed the dumb stupid idiotic slip out of my purse and shook it in their faces. Then boisterously confessed all the while waving the ridiculous dumb stupid chunk of black silk overhead.
It was very subtle. I'm sure that no one noticed.
We all left the event arm-in-arm and laughing like a bunch of kids.
Ahhh. Life is so strange - but good.
I was simply not meant to dress nicely and act in a normal fashion. Ever. I try to act like a well-mannered person, really, I do. But in spite of everything that I do to try to prepare for and minimize the possibility of.....um....embarrassing incidents made in a very public place, they still happen to me. All the time. I've decided that it's just all beyond my control.
Here's how I arrived at this revelation.
So last weekend, Terese and Greg asked John and I to gussy up and be their guests at a dinner honoring them for their work with a Catholic university program. It was a beautiful white linen semi-formal kind of an event and I was determined to do two things:
First - not to wear anything stupid.
Secondly - not to do anything stupid.
In my quest to achieve objective number one, I threw myself into the hands of a salesperson in a reputable dress store in search of a not-stupid looking dress. We settled on a simple and comfortable plum dress, accessorized with a matching necklace and earrings. I agonized over my reflection in the dressing room mirror.
"Honey?" the saleslady peeked through the curtain partition. "I think you should take off those argyle knee high socks. You really can't get the full effect with those things on. Oh, and...." she thrust a hanger into the dressing room on which was a pair of Spanx. You know, the things that they used to call girdles. ".....put this on."
Oh. Um, I don't think that will make much of a difference.
She poked her head into the room and looked sternly at me over the top of her glasses. "Yes. Yes, it will. Trust me."
Fine. I struggled into the stupid thing and had to admit that while it didn't actually give me a waistline, at least it smoothed out some of the largest lumps and bumps.
"What are you wearing for shoes?" She was back.
Oh, I don't know. I think I have some dress shoes at home.
"Well, if you want my advice, since you did ask, this dress simply MUST be worn with black kitten heels."
Kitten heels?
Ah. That's what they call pumps these days.
So Saturday night, I squeezed myself into a stupid pair of pantyhose, then the dumb stupid pair of Spanx, pulled on a slip, then finally my dress. I slipped my feet into my black kitten heels and we were off.
Terese and Greg were impressively honored and made a fabulous speech, John looked dashing in his suit, the dinner was delicious, and to my delight, the white wine which was served didn't make me feel like barfing. Just before the event drew to a close, I was feeling somewhat smug. Even though our dinner table was directly in front of the large crowd, I hadn't goobered, or fallen over, or anything. It was a great evening.
Wow. Could I possibly escape this evening unscathed by doofus-ness?
Then I made the unfortunate decision that it was a good time to head over to the bathroom. I stood in front of the full length mirror in the lady's powder room, and under the influence of three glasses of the aforementioned wine, gee. Suddenly the dress and dumb stupid Spanx didn't look as bad as I thought. Actually, not bad. Not bad at all.
As I sashayed out of the bathroom and headed back to our table, I felt a strange wispy sensation that went down the length of my legs. Hm, I thought. That's odd.
I felt something swish lightly around my ankles, and then...well golly. My feet just weren't walking...right....
Oh. My. Gosh.
I looked down at my fabulous black kitten heels aghast. My dumb stupid half-slip had just SLIPPED IT'S WAY DOWN MY LEGS AND ONTO THE FLOOR.
Yes. I had publicly lost my undergarment in front of several of the priests of our diocese as well as other upstanding Catholic honorees and their families.
I looked at the ground, my feet covered in a puddle of black silk and was momentarily frozen in shock. (I had the surreal thought that it contrasted quite nicely with the cream colored carpet, actually.)
I'm certain that I wasn't the only person shocked. Panic stricken, I looked up at the dinner table next to me directly into the eyes of a very nice looking young man. He threw up his hands over his face.
"I didn't see A THING. NOT. A. THING." he said, looking rather embarrassed yet quite amused.
Blushing furiously, I scooped up my dumb stupid slip from the floor, stuffed it into my purse, and stomped off to our table.
I suppose that anyone else who would have had this incredible misfortune would have probably furtively stowed the slip away and then quietly taken her seat.
Me? Not a chance.
I was so flustered that as I approached Terese, Greg, and our other friends, I grabbed the dumb stupid idiotic slip out of my purse and shook it in their faces. Then boisterously confessed all the while waving the ridiculous dumb stupid chunk of black silk overhead.
It was very subtle. I'm sure that no one noticed.
We all left the event arm-in-arm and laughing like a bunch of kids.
Ahhh. Life is so strange - but good.
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