I Have a Really Good Explanation for That

I bought a new shirt on Monday. Because this new shirt is kind of sheer, it came with a coordinating camisole. As most women know, camisoles introduce a complex underwear question into the morning dressing routine - to bra or not to bra?

On Tuesday morning, I decided to wear the new shirt and camisole and decided to go with the bra option. Unfortunately, because laundry hasn’t been done by the laundry fairies recently, my bra selection was down to the few uncomfortable bras I still own. But I forged ahead and decided to wear a bra I know is very uncomfortable, thinking that perhaps I had overestimated the level of uncomfortableness of the bra.

Turns out . . . I hadn’t.

But, I hung in there almost all day with the bra. However, around 3 pm, I couldn’t take it any more . . . I had to get that thing off. So, I grabbed my keys and went to the bathroom in my office building, which is outside of our actual office walls. I grabbed my keys because to get back into the office, I have to have my keys.

After shutting myself in a stall, I removed the offensive undergarment and put the camisole and shirt back on and . . . ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . . breathed a sigh of relief. Comfort at last.

But now I had an even bigger problem. I am standing in a bathroom stall holding a bra, wearing an outfit without pockets, and carrying no purse or briefcase. Panic sets in. How the hell am I going to make it back to my office without revealing to everyone that I just took my bra off? I tried to squish the bra into my fist. It didn’t work. I carefully folded the straps into the bra and made it as compact as possible. However, it was still painfully obvious that I was carrying underwear in my hand.

I took a deep breath and made a mad dash to the outside door of my office. DAMN! I hadn’t thought about using my key to open the door and I had my bra in my right hand - the hand I usually use to open the door with my key. I tried to fumble the key in the lock with my left hand and failed miserably. Then I tried to keep the bra in my right hand and open the lock at the same time. DAMN! I dropped the bra in the hallway.

Totally flustered, I grabbed the bra with my left hand, opened the door with my right hand, and sprinted to my office. Relieved to have made it without being spotted, I dropped the bra in my briefcase and sat down at my desk.

Ahh, sweet relief. I could last two hours at work, go home and get rid of the bra. No one would ever know.

Well . . . somewhere between 3:15 and 5 pm, I forgot about the bra. Instead of going home for dinner after work (because the food fairies haven’t filled the fridge), I decided to take my daughter out for dinner at One World. We had a lovely dinner and then the waitress brought us the check. Knowing my three year old had limited time left in her good behavior container, I asked the waitress to wait so I could hand her my credit card right then and there.

I opened my briefcase, pulled out my wallet, and FLIP! Out came the bra . . . flying across the table and landing on the floor. Stunned, I grabbed it quickly and shoved it back into the briefcase. "What was THAT, MAMA?" yelled my daughter. Subtle, babe.

Turning to look at the waitress, I said, "I have a really good explanation for that . . . ."

The waitress said, "That’s OK . . . ." and walked away.

You know, sometimes I live in this fantasy world that I have everything under control and my life is absolutely normal. Then I am reminded that I don’t and it isn’t.