I went through a brief period of not wearing underwear. It seemed like the thing to do? Everyone’s gone through this phase, right? It’s somewhat like the phase we all go through when you just don’t ever shower. Everyone goes through that phase too, right?
I wear a lot of skirts and dresses. I just think they are more comfortable. Most likely because I’m shaped like I’m ready to hit the pool (INNER TUBE FASTENED).
Anywhoodle, my stint of not wearing underwear ended abruptly after a disastrous date to Navy Pier, during which my wrap dress blew open in the breeze and exposed my vagina to kids of all ages.
STEP RIGHT UP KIDS! COME SEE THE FLESH ORIGAMI NEAR THE BEER TENT! NO! FLESH ORIGAMI IS NOW MAKING ITS WAY TO THE PRETZEL VENDOR! HURRY UP KIDS! FLESH ORIGAMI IS NOW MAKING ITS WAY TO THE HOT DOG STAND! GOTTA WORK QUICK KIDS, FLESH ORIGAMI CAN NOW BE FOUND NEAR THE FRIED CHEESES, MEATS AND BREADS! STEP RIGHT UP KIDS!!! (microphone covered in a muffled voice: Damn that bitch likes to eat!)
Long story short (WAY too late – seriously – you know better by now), now as a seemingly responsible adult, I usually am wearing underwear.
Usually. <wink wink>
Last summer I had planned to get together with my friend and her two kids for a play date at the park. Anyone who knows me knows that I am just one big kid, so I don’t even have to bring kids to the park to have a good time.
Which actually sounds rather creepy. What I meant is that I don’t have to bring MY kids to the park. I can just watch yours play.
Ok, there is no way to not sound creepy when talking about being alone in a park with children.
Moving on. We were sliding, doing monkey bars and wreaking general havoc on the park. I think I only mowed down three kids and kicked four others. One of those shits deserved it for looking at me funny. “WHAT YOU LOOKIN’ AT, FUCKER?”
At one point I found myself accidentally becoming the “bubble master.” I was blowing bubbles to the tune of at least ten kids standing in front of me with their little eager arms beckoning at me to make more bubbles. They were chanting and yelling for “bubbles!!!” I felt somewhat like a rock star?
Minus all the men, cocaine and money.
After about an hour (or so it felt) I mouthed to my friend, “How long do I have to keep doing this?” She laughed and we quickly left.
Good thing, as the bubble juice was running low and I swear I saw a kid in the wings lighting a torch ready to yell “NO MORE BUBBLES? GET HER! SHE MUST PAY!!!”
After the park we decided to treat ourselves to some ice cream. I was leading the way as my friend slowly manipulated her double stroller behind me. As I gingerly walked across some grates, I felt a WHOOSH of air and my dress LITERALLY flew up over my head.
I heard a girl standing nearby start laughing hysterically as I grabbed at my dress and ran off the grate. My friend only caught the tail end and she said it looked like I was doing some sort of cha cha with my dress in my hands all over the place.
The girl who was almost in tears from laughing at this point yelled to me that she didn’t think anyone saw but her and then quickly began to recount the whole story to her friend on the phone.
I couldn’t stop laughing and neither could my friend. We then had to explain what had happened to my friend’s daughter, who kept asking what happened to her auntie???
The worst part of the whole ordeal was that I was wearing horrible underwear that I know were all bunched up in my rolls.
Seriously, don’t walk over grates that might potentially violently push up hot air IF you are wearing a flowy dress.
Granted, these days I am almost always wearing a flowy dress. Mostly to hide my ill-fitting panties.
I debated not posting this story to the Internet in fear that the several passersby who had their retinas burned out may press charges.