I just cannot get undergarments right. A while back I wrote about an incident in which a dog fight revealed my lack of wearing panties. So, in attempting to correct myself, I do try to wear panties when it seems appropriate. Like today. I was downtown for important reasons, in a pretty dress. So, panties. I was walking up one of the busiest streets in our fair city, in the middle of the afternoon. Cars were streaming by, people out on the sidewalk, crazy sky ready to either bust out some sunshine or pour down some buckets of rain – just a normal summer day. And I am walking along, going to my destination when I dropped a letter I was carrying. I bent down to pick it up, and then when I stood back up, my panties fell down. Onto the Sidewalk. In front of a toothless homeless man. And many, many other people.
I don’t have a lot of backyard real estate, so to speak. And I guess these panties were just ready to give up the ghost or something. I had had to tug them up a few times, which was awkward enough. But I have to tell you that given the choice between having your skirt blow up to reveal no panties and having your underwear FALL OFF ON THE SIDEWALK I would choose the former Every Single Time. Because you know what? You are presented with quite a dilemma in the second situation. There is no graceful exit to your underwear on the sidewalk. You cannot in anyway reach down and put them back on. You cannot recover. Your underwear fell off in public, and there it is. On the sidewalk. Picking them up seemed equally as appalling a choice. Am I going to pick my panties up off of the sidewalk and put them in my purse? Walk away and let the toothless homeless man ponder my panties? Someone find my underwear on the street and wonder about That Story?
So there we were, Me and the Toothless Guy, staring at the spectacle of my undergarments on the concrete before us. Who knows who else witnessed this “brief” event. Nobody honked, although that would have really made it better, because then I could have put on my show face, picked them up and waved them around my head yelling “Woot! Woot!” or some other such typically drunken girl exclamation. But alas, I was slightly at a loss as to how to deal with the situation. So I stood there for a moment, glanced at toothless man, and then started to laugh. And laugh. He looked at me and said “Ma’am?” and then kind of laughed a little too. But I think he was mostly Confused. I did pick up my panties, stuffed them in my purse, and then(hopefully) discretely dropped them in the trash. And then went about the rest of my day.
P.S. I was on my way back to work. Thas right! (Belle got a Job)