More Than They Bargained For

Unfortunately I am no stranger to wardrobe malfunctions. They seem to catch me when I'm least expecting them.

On Saturday, after leaving the gym, KS received word from KR that she was inviting us over to make homemade pizza and watch the just-released Twilight movie, New Moon. Saturday was a dreary, cold day, so the plan sounded ideal.

We had some time to clean up and relax when we got home, and KS started searching for a good bruschetta recipe to make over at KR's house.

On our way to KR's we stopped at Central Market for groceries, and right when we walked in KS spied a promotion going on, where you could buy a pre-made family meal of baked ziti, salad and foccacia for $19.99 and receive a copy of the New Moon DVD with your purchase. A $20 dollar meal, a $20 DVD, together for only $19.99 while supplies lasted. I think our expressions went from wonder to elation at this discovery. We are incredibly easy to please.

The prepared foods section is at the end of the store from the produce entrance, where we began, and Central Market has a very windy design and is always as crowded as most grocery stores on the day before Thanksgiving, so we covered a good deal of space and dodged a lot of other shoppers while grabbing tomatoes, basil, bread and everything else we needed for bruschetta.

It was literally freezing outside, and so KS and I were both wearing coats. At one point I felt a little warm, so I unbuttoned my favorite plaid coat and kept walking. I had on a light blue button-down tuxedo-inspired shirt from J.Crew, belted across the waist with jeans and flats.

KS and I finally came to the complete opposite side of the store from where we found the New Moon promotional deal. I think we were about to high-five when I saw this girl looking at me like she knew me. (Please remember the part about me unbuttoning my coat, combined with the fact that this grocery store was very busy at this point in time.) As I racked my brain as to where I might know her, she approached me and standing right in front of me said quietly:

"I just wanted to let you know that your shirt came unbuttoned and your bra is showing."

Nothing squelches New Moon euphoria like public exposure, let me tell you.

I thanked her profusely while the guy she was with, bless his heart, stood a few feet back, looking absolutely fascinated with the ceiling. I probably turned the same shade of red as the tomatoes I was carrying, while I looked down and found that she was indeed correct. My shirt was unbuttoned down to that place on your stomach/chest right below your bra. There was nothing subtle about it. The patrons of Central Market got a little more than they bargained for... as if dinner and a movie wasn't enough already.

I am a modest and oftentimes reserved person, so laughing this off took some assertion of will, but I managed. I hope that my shirt wasn't like this for too long, since KS and I were together the whole time and she obviously would have noticed while discussing which of the artisan breads she wanted to use for the bruschetta.

This wasn't the same kind of embarrassment as the day I wore the exact same purple gingham shirt as one of the MALE publishers in my office in New York, but it was in the same league.

I was still in a bit of a daze when we left the store a few minutes later, but snow flurries, on the first day of spring, no less, had started to fall.

The things I do for food and Robert Pattinson.

We never forgive those who make us blush.
-Jean-Francois De La Harpe

Your Epidermis is Showing

I embarrass easily. I even get embarrassed for other people.

I go to see a movie at the theater maybe once a month. It's a good escape for someone like me, who typically feels the need to do a minimum of eight things at a time when I am at home. Unlike other activities, I never see movies alone. Movies are more of a social outing, which can be good, or in my case oftentimes downright awkward. I always seem to end up attending movies with boys when there is an uncomfortable amount of nakedness on-screen.

Titanic: Christmas Day 1997. My family including my parents, younger brother, who was 11 (I was only 12), all saw a fully nude Kate Winslet. Very risque for a PG-13 at the time. It was a great movie, obviously, but uncomfortable as my mother reflexively shielded my brother's eyes at that part. I think we established on the way home that we had both already endured The Talk in school, and didn't need a round two of Birds & the Bees.

Love Actually: around Christmas 2003. I went to see this movie for the first time with my friend ND and my cousin, BH who randomly became friends in college. I was visiting Austin one weekend and had heard good things, so went to see enjoy some good old-fashioned British humor. The scene where the two people are carrying a normal conversation while performing a scene in an adult film, as if what they were doing was so irreverent and not at all intimate, completely caught me off guard. ND raised a hand to shield BH's eyes, as if it were going to help anything at that point.

Forgetting Sarah Marshall: seen in April of 2008 in New York with my roommate KR and MN, a guy who we went to college with and became friends with after we all moved to New York after graduation. Within the first five minutes of the movie (warning: spoiler), there is full frontal male nudity. We all froze staring at the screen, with MN between us, as we weren't good enough friends with him yet to laugh it off or talk about it immediately. Not to mention the movie itself was still playing and there were only stifled giggles in the theater. We laughed it off in a flippant "ahh no big deal, that was awkward, let's not bring this up again until we know each other better" kind of way.

The Reader: I have not seen this movie but I did read the book. I was having a drink after work one day recently with my soon-to-be roommates, MG and KS, who were leaving to go see Slumdog Millionaire afterward. They were asking for my opinion, and when I found out they had seen The Reader, I asked what they thought of it. The first thing they mentioned was, again, the full frontal male nudity. I heard "you see a penis!" from one of them and "it's HUGE!" right after from the other. The two noteworthy features of the film are not the story line nor Kate Winslet's Oscar performance (there she is again!) but the fact that there is a penis in the movie and it is huge. So priceless. My parents saw this movie and let's just say the most I heard from my mother was "oh, it was a bit wild!" Wild. Seriously?

People react reflexively in these situations. No one can look away, no one knows what to do with their hands, no one wants to look at the people of the opposite sex in attendance. In a movie theater as a captivated audience, the awkwardness is shared. Anyone with even the slightest sense of modesty is blushing even though it's dark. People unnaturally adjust clothing, as if to make sure it's still there.

I know everyone has their "this would only happen to me" moments... I should start paying more attention to the disclaimers on movie ratings.

"At least embarrassment is not an imitation.
It's intimacy for beginners..."
-Alice Fulton

Monday Morning Curb Check

$450 is more than I usually spend during my lunch hour.

$453 if you count the tortilla soup I got at Taco Bueno.

Sometimes it pays to be a girl- other times it is dang expensive.

When it comes to car maintenance, I am helpless. I hit a curb this morning on my way to work, while swerving to miss a car who almost hit me. It was raining and they failed to look before darting into my lane. Cool. Exactly how I love to start my Mondays. Instead of getting in a wreck with another car, I narrowly missed him and let the curb and my back right tire take the brunt of it.

I immediately saw a warning, Low Tire(!) message flashing up at me. Awesome. I was close to work and so I called the man in my life, Dad, and then Roadside Assistance to let them know what had happened and what I needed, thus making myself late for an 8:30 meeting. Even more awesome.

Roadside Assistance called me at 10 a.m. to tell me that they were at my office to check out the tire. I met Aaron outside and he changed the now flat tire in a matter of minutes while I told him what had happened. He asked who my service manager was, I fished the card out of my glove compartment for him, and he told me he would handle making the appointment for me to take it in during my lunch break. Before I could try to figure out the logistics of getting back to my office sans-car, he even offered to take me back himself. What Aaron does not know is that his number is now stored in my phone for all of my car woes, and that I am so grateful for his help in keeping my father's sanity (who I called nine times before noon, btw).

As promised, I had an 11:30 appointment at my dealership, which is about a mile from my office. For such a time as this, the proximity of the dealership was a huge selling point for my parents when they got me the car. I arrived with my tail between my legs, so to speak, the girly girl who committed the high maintenance curb-check faux pas of the morning. Quickly realizing that I would not be getting my car back within the hour, I packed my purse with my auxiliary iPhone cord, extra case, charger, garage card for work, etc., and abandoned her to the experts.

My service manager took me into his office and began the question assault. Alright maybe not assault, but when I feel I'm at a disadvantage, I am automatically on the defensive. I called my dad again to find out if I had tire-protection insurance. "No- I thought you were a better driver than your mother."

Ouch. Low blow, Pops.

He was joking and tried to reassure me by saying he had done something like this before, had to replace the rim and the wheel and the whole nine yards and it was expensive and annoying but it was still far better than getting in a wreck and hitting another car.

I was on the verge of crying at this point, thinking of how stupid I looked, being a stereotypical girl and knowing so little about the situation and about my car and how it functions and how to fix it. I get so frustrated with myself when I don't understand something, and combined with the fact that I was gone all weekend in D.C. on a work trip, slept little the past three nights, it was a Monday, it was raining and I was stuck spending money on a tire of all things was just adding fuel to the fire. You know what I'm talking about- an Everything Cry. Not wanting to freak-out the entire service department, I chose instead to lament a pair of shoes I saw at Barney's a few weeks ago, thinking of how my money would have been so much better served in buying some new pumps; stimulating the economy and such.

I sucked it up, signed a few papers and followed the service manager to the loaner car they were giving me. Candy apple red, in case you wondered. Everyone made it so easy and painless, other than my near self-inflicted breakdown and the $450 dent in my checking account, I was just fine.

Curb: 450
Me: 0

Josh: You want to practice parking?
Cher: What's the point? Everywhere you go has valet.
-Clueless

I Feel Faint

I have a laundry list of humiliating stories that mostly stem from fainting.

You heard me: fainting. And not dainty, Disney Damsel in Distress fainting either.

I was on a plane Friday headed from Dallas to Detroit for work. (See the pictures? Yeah those aren't from Texas). I was settled into my seat, and a coworker friend of mine was next to me, resting her eyes. I hadn't eaten much all day and definitely hadn't had any water, and all of a sudden I felt a little nauseous. I have never gotten airsick or carsick, I'm not claustrophobic or scared of heights, so I turned up my little vent and tried to relax. I opened my eyes, started seeing spots, then knew what would happen next; I would black out. I had just gotten a glass of water, so I took little sips while taking a few deep breaths and managed to slip off one of my tall, Ugg-boots because the plane suddenly felt like a furnace, and I let it pass.

Have you ever finished crying and had to take those quick little hiccup-y breaths while you are calming down? The same thing happens after fainting.

I've been fainting, every few years for whatever reason, since I was a little girl. I broke my arm at a roller-skating birthday party, got a cast put on, then the doctor decided I needed a different one. The original cast had to be sawed off, and I was held to the bed while screaming while my parents were not allowed inside the room. I think it's the only time in my life I've seen my mom look borderline murderous. The next day, after a check-up with my family pediatrician, I slid off the table and collapsed onto the floor. Next thing I knew, I came to and was being carried through the waiting room by my doctor, my mother trailing behind. So technically, the fainting started 18 years ago.

My friend AG has been fortunate enough to see me faint twice. Lucky her.

AG and I bought tickets to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire for the Saturday morning after it came out, while we were roommates in college. We thought we would be avoiding some kind of frenzied crowd by going at that time, even though we should have figured that there would be lots of teenagers and smaller kids around. We arrived at the theater early, to wait in line, and were there for about 20 minutes before there was a sudden influx of bodies everywhere.

It started getting warm, and then I realized I had broken out in a cold sweat. I felt a little light headed, AG's voice became more distant as the line started moving. Everyone's feet started shuffling forward and I made it through the ripping of the ticket before I really started blacking out. Meanwhile, streams of children and teenagers were running past me and AG was wondering what was going on. I collapsed next to the wall in the crowded hallway, and ushered AG on, saying "go get seats! I'll be fine, just get the seats!"

I was vaguely aware of people looking, as if I cared at that point, and after a few moments I came to, as an angel with an assistant manager's name tag helped me outside to a courtyard (who knew there a courtyard there?) and handed me a bottle of water.

AG found me, granola bar in tow, and I immediately looked up from the pavement and said "hey, did you get the seats?"

Exasperated with me, she said, "Yes, I got the freaking seats! Are you okay?!"

I was fine, at that point. My fainting is always followed up by a hammering headache, and seeing a movie probably wasn't the greatest idea at that point but we already had seats. Couldn't miss Harry Potter.

There was also some ridiculousness involving me fainting again on her 21st birthday (it was not from drinking too much, I seriously had a beer and a shot- I'm allergic to red food coloring and the shot was red... and I'm an idiot), which involved 6th Street in Austin at 2 AM, and AG taking care of me on her 21st. Ah, memories.

At a blood drive; at church; at golf camp; while standing in a towel in a friend's family's house in Connecticut... I will attest that fainting can happen anywhere.

"At least embarrassment is not an imitation.
It's intimacy for beginners..."
-Alice Fulton

My First Kiss

20-Something Bloggers does a blog carnival every month, encouraging bloggers to write on an experience or topic that month. This month's is telling everyone to share the memory of their first kiss, so here goes...

My first kiss in and of itself was unremarkable, but the night it happened became totally infamous among everyone I went to school with growing up.

The year was 1998 and it was the last day of seventh grade. An awkward year, being in the middle of middle school, I think we were all glad to see it go. At school that day, word of a party spread around. A girl we were all friends with, but didn't know that well, had given everyone an open invitation to come over that night.

Everyone who was anyone in the seventh grade (technically eighth grade, suckers!) was at this party. The actual details of the beginning of the party, while it was still light outside, are a little unclear now, 11 years later. Once the sun went down... now that was a different story.

The girl's family lived a little bit outside of town, and their house had a considerable amount of land around and behind it, and we were not close enough for neighboring houses to be disturbed by our shenanigans.

It got dark out, and the party moved into the backyard, which was basically a forest. The suggestion was made to play Truth or Dare, which was unamusing until someone dared one person to kiss another.

Our party host's brother, who had just finished his sophomore year of high school and was supposed to be keeping an eye on us or something, finally figured out what we were doing and asked why we weren't just playing Spin the Bottle. It was a scandalous suggestion and we all knew it. Since everyone was too sheepish to speak up, but too curious to say no, he took it upon himself to go inside, grab a random empty Coke bottle and explain the rules.

No one was comfortable enough to kiss in front of everyone, so when the bottle landed on you, you and the other person would go a little ways off behind a tree to kiss. The time came when the bottle spun and landed on me. I froze. he came over, grabbed my hand and we walked off. The next person was already spinning when we left. I probably looked terrified, but I knew he had kissed girls before so I was thankful he initiated it. He leaned in for a soft peck, and I recall keeping my eyes open, having no clue as to what to do with my hands and thinking "does this have to count as my first kiss? I don't even like him!" In hindsight I realize it could have been worse, as many of friends have horror stories of kissing teeth or knocking foreheads... etc.

I ended up kissing more than one boy that night, which is fittingly enough, the only time I have ever kissed more than one guy in an evening. It was a total frenzy after a while, once everyone got used to the idea.

Once we all got to high school, we found out that all of the 9th graders who were joining us from another middle school had found out about our infamous make-out party. It was the only one of its kind. They were so jealous.

It was the only make-out party we ever had, through middle OR high school. It may have never been replicated, but I can assure you that no one in attendance forgot about it either.

"A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature, to stop speech when words become superfluous."
-Ingrid Bergman

Modesty is hiding somewhere else

I'd like to know when the powers that be decided to let men start designing bras.

Yes Victoria, I'm talking to you.

I recently walked into one of those stores for the first time in years (that's not the only place to buy unmentionables, after all) because I was really at my wit's end with my favorite nude-colored bra and decided to bite the bullet and invest in another.

The last time I was in a Victoria's Secret store, it was adorned in soft shades of cream and pink and gold and there were nice ladies around to help you find whatever it is you were looking to purchase and "fit" you for a bra, (which is a nice way of saying feel you up) to measure what size bra you needed. I remembered buying said item at the Victoria's Secret of my youth because my mom had just seen an episode of Oprah that highlighted the fact that somewhere around 80-90% of women were walking around wearing the incorrect bra size.

Much to my horror and embarrassment, while I was getting "fitted" for a new bra with some lady and her measuring tape, my phone rang. It was in my purse, which was with my mother, right outside the dressing room. Bra Measuring Tape Lady opened the door while modesty was pushed to unknown limits, and my mom handed me the phone. It was my friends KR and AG calling to tell me the sorority they had pledged at OU.

I went into a VS with a friend a few months ago, and I remembered how taken-aback we both were with the racy framed pictures they had on the staircase. Were we in the wrong store? Had we absentmindedly walked into a burlesque show? When I walked into Victoria's Secret a few days ago, I was shocked at the transformation. It looked more like a (non)-gentleman's nightclub, with black and white and lace everywhere, than a store where women go to buy bras. Gone were the soft hues and sweet saleswomen- they have been replaced by blaring Britney Spears and gum-smacking teenage girls.

On the phone the whole time, I found the "updated" version of my bra and left, not wanting to try it on and just needing to get out of there. There was also a little pouch of extras which I didn't understand and I did not want to mess with it. When I got home, I tried it on, adjusted the straps and put on a shirt to see if it looked okay. Something looked off, so I changed again into my old bra to inspect. You know what they did? They added a layer of built-in padding, and not JUST padding, but also removable gel/water inserts. I won't get specific, but I'll go ahead and say that my cup size does not necessitate extra "help".

So why the heck do I feel like I'm bound to pull a sofa cushion out of my top at any moment?

Did it ever occur to anyone that people would have to wear these in real life? One that does not include Gisele in mood-lighting and Very Sexy commercials? I have to go to work; I am a professional! My v-neck sweaters have been demoted to the back of the closet, because I can't go out in public without layers and a turtleneck covering my upper half.

For the love.

"It reveals nothing and suggests everything."
-Choderlos de Laclos, Les Liaisons Dangereuses