One of my favorite parts of Redbook Magazine is the “red in the face” embarrassing moments. So let’s have an “embarrassing moments” here on the blog. I’ll tell you two of mine (there are so many to choose from), and in the comments you all tell me yours. If I’ve done this before and told these, my apologies, but I don’t remember that I have . . .
Two (of many) Embarrassing Moments—
While out of town, I went shopping and bought some cute “boyshort” undies. I wore them the morning I was flying back to WNC. Getting to the plane, no problem. But, when I’m off the plane and walking the long walk to my connection, the boyshort undies begin to make their way down my hips—oh oh. Did I mention I was wearing a skirt? So, I’m walking and feeling them slip down, down down. I’m looking for a ladies room—desperately. When the undies slip far enough down, there’s nothing else for me to do but push my upper thighs together and do this stupid strange little ducky walk to keep them from falling down around my knees and to the floor. People are looking at me funny, lawd! It was the longest most embarrassing walk I’ve ever had in an airport terminal (hmm, why am I qualifying that “in an airport terminal” –hmmmm). I barely made it to the ladies room before those undies slipped right on down to my knees. I had to literally tuck them—um…you can figure it out—wedge them—so I could make it to my connection and back on the plane! Oh Dear. Lawd!
PICTURE IT!: The midish 70’s. I was a young and single woman. My friend and I were going to go out “Disco Dancing,” yes that should be the embarrassing moment right there *laughing* – just the idea of Disco Dancing is embarrassingly humiliating enough—I have actually done The Bump—annnywaayyyy…..my friend always wore such cute clothes, so we went shopping and she convinced me to buy this, this, Thing. It was a pair of stretchy knit bellbottoms with a stretchy knit matching mid-riff top that tied under the bust—the colors were some kind of mod swirly stuff in muted colors of light blue, green, cream.
Thing is, my friend also convinced me that the top was NOT absolutely NOT supposed to be worn with a bra. Fine for her, with her, um, slim upper regions. But, not fine for Miss Kat with her, um, bounty of upper regions. But, I did it—I put on this tight knit swirly-colored matching outfit and platform shoes, and off we went to Disco Dance.
SCREEECHHH (yes, that’s the sound of the record suddenly stopping, the world coming still, including my Super Freak Dance Moves). Oh….my….gawd. The cute guy then calmly goes back to his seat and starts laughing with his friends. Oh…my…gawd. And me? I try to pretend I don’t care and just sort of nonchalantly walk to the ladies room (another walk of shame to the ladies room just as above *laughing*) to fix myself. Oh…my…gawd! When I came out of the bathroom, I just went back to my table and tried to pretend everything was normal and I’d not just shown a bounteous amount of personal flesh to a roomful of people—I guess I should thank the cute guy –he could have let things go a lot longer *shudder to think.* My friend thought it was the funniest thing EVAH. Huhn. The outfit was relegated to the back of my closet. I wonder what ever happened to that thing.
Your Turn! Tell me an embarrassing moment, or two.