Wardrobe malfunction

In eighth grade, I accidentally walked out of the girls locker room with my shirt on but unbuttoned. The gust of air generated by opening the door made the sides of my shirt flutter open and it took only a half second for me to look down and realize my TERRIBLE oversight.

I clutched my shirt closed and looked up to see Michael Tucker, the Jake Ryan of my grade school, in the doorway of the boy’s locker room. Laughing.


You would think this humiliation would only be suffered once in a lifetime, but you would be WRONG.

On Saturday at a volunteer event (think women’s wolunteer organization) with some very fancy attendees, I walked out of the restroom with my skirt tucked up into my underwear.


Well, perhaps underwear isn’t the correct word to use here. Maybe… oh… I dunno… I should use the word “girdle”.

Yes, indeed. I was wearing my Spanx. Because that’s the appropriate thing to do when one is wearing a form fitting dress and wants to make sure everything is smooth underneath.

So I walked right out of the restroom with my Spanx out there for all to see… and about 8 women (all sizes 0’s – I SWEAR I am not making this up!) came running out after me trying to help me with my wardrobe malfunction.

The bad news is they saw my “girdle,” the good news is that I didn’t march my granny clad ass out in front of the entire event audience.


2 thoughts on “Wardrobe malfunction

  1. Many years ago I took a job with a small law firm, which lasted about 6 months, after which I regained my sanity and went back to solo practice. While at the firm I was asked to 2nd chair a trial for one of the firm’s junior partners since I had a construction background and the junior partner didn’t know the difference from a floor joist to a roof rafter. His ignorance of the subject matter was matched only by his lack of personality, his arrogance, and his inept presentation “skills.” He was as charming as a Nazi and as smart as a tree. He was short and pale and his skin would turn red whenever he got fired up. He had the worst “poker face” I think I’ve ever seen – which is worse than death for a trial lawyer.

    The jury hated him. After every exchange with a witness, the junior partner would come back to the counsel table, where I sat wishing to be turned into a pillar of salt or beamed to another part of the universe, and he would ask me “how did I do?” Then he’d cut me off when I’d try to tell him he might want to fact-check his position with our client. The attorney got NOTHING correct and everybody knew it but him.

    After several days of suffering the trial was coming to an unglorious end for our side, the client wanted to kill the junior partner and I wanted to hide under the counsel table and make myself invisible. It was time for closing arguments. The judge instructed the junior partner to begin his closing and the little man quickly stood up and began to move from behind the counsel table and towards the jury. To my horror, I noticed that his jacket had somehow inserted itself into the back of his pants and into his ass crack! He was a cartoon of a man on a good day, but now with his jacket sticking out of his pants and his ass prominently highlighted, the bottom of the jacket looked like a set of tailfeathers. The man looked like a little red duck when he stood up. He was oblivious.

    I tried to grab the back of his jacket before he got all the way around the counsel table, trying to balance some discretion against the urgency of the wardrobe malfunction. I failed miserably. He was too quick and I missed the jacket by just inches. Now all eyes were on the duck and his tailfeathers and me. All I could do was retract my outstreatched arm and watch the show. The closing argument lasted about an hour. Every time the attorney would turn towards me I’d try to signal him but he was such a dork that he’d just give me the stink-eye and continue on. After about my tenth attempt, I just had to give up. He was getting angry at me and his pale skin was turning the color of tomato soup. Our client looked as if he wanted to tackle and kill his idiot lead counsel right there in the coutroom. This all became too much for the jury and they began to giggle. The junior partner, still ignorant of his duck-like image, thought the jury was laughing WITH him, instead of AT him. Armed with this false sense of adoration he continued on, pacing and talking even faster, his skin nearly turning purple – tailfeathers all afluff.

    After the attorney was done humiliating himself and had finished his closing argument, he finally came to the counsel table, where I was sitting, still trying to make myself invisible, and said, in his arrogant fashion,”What were you trying to tell me! You aren’t supposed to interrupt my closing! By the way, how did I do?” He still had the jacket in is ass crack while he was addressing me. I just smiled at him and apologized and told him I’d have done it a little different, but who was I to question him. About that time, our client reached over and pulled the junior partner’s jacket out of his ass crack. An ugly day got even uglier after that…

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