I have issues with clothes.
From the very beginning, I was not a good dresser. Knickers, and sweatsuits, and, omg, stirrups. That mod phase in middle school. Or that time in high school when I only wore black, then later expanded it to include other clothes as long as there was some black. My favorite outfit: a black bodysuit, my stepfather's jeans, my blue/black zigzag cardigan and my docs. Um, yeah.
It took me a while to get some style. Like, forever. And since I've been dressing better, I've had horrible luck. Many a cute shirt has had a fresh batch of mocha spilled down its front. I nearly always forget to zip my fly. No, really. I don't always take off all tags, nothing I buy that's white is white longer than an hour on my body, and I have actually tucked my skirt into my underwear. Good fun, btw.
It's a joke at work that my girls are always on display, and sometimes my bra makes an appearance so it can share in the attention.
Just last week, I got up and dressed into a rather modest wrap dress (because I put a tank under so you couldn't see my cleavage), went to church, drove to Bloomington and hung out in the McDonald's with my kids for an hour, then drove home and went to work, only to find 30 minutes before close that my turquoise underwear was fully visible through my coral dress. All the livelong day.
And tonight, I was getting my bag out of my locker at work when my friend Megan said, "You have some kind of white substance on your dress. I'd get it for you, but it's dangerously close to your butt." I lifted my skirt and turned it so I could see. Yep. Big white splotch. I sit on the bathroom counter to do my eye makeup, and I guess I sat on some toothpaste. I don't even want to know what people were thinking of me.
Moral of the story: I'm kind of a mess. :)
Listening to: Jimmy Eat World