boobs day out

edit: first off, i’m so PISSED because i just spent the last HOUR of my life (time i will never get back thank you very much) writing today’s post and went to publish it and it disappeared from my screen. gone. vanished. like it never existed. so i can’t promise this version of it will be as good as the now forever gone version–but i’ll try to duplicate the emotion i poured into the first draft as closely as possible. IF i don’t throw this computer out the window first.

you know it’s a bad day when your kids’ art teacher greets you at the door with, “wow. having a rough day? are you feeling all right?” i half smile (thinking maybe i have some of my leftover lunch stuck between my teeth) and say, “no, just another thursday.”

the art teacher looks confused and says, “but isn’t it tuesday?”

i look down at the ground like maybe the answer is spray painted on the tile floor and say, “right, tuesday. that’s why we’re at art class today. because it’s tuesday.” i then bop myself on the forehead (like they do in the V8 commercial) but a little too hard because my head started hurting and i grimaced from the pain. the art teacher stood there and i could tell immediately that he was afraid for my kids’ safety. he looked me up and down once more and i followed his gaze. right. my clothes. when i left the house in the morning it was 56 degrees, so i put on gray sweat pants. now it was 85 degrees and i still had on my sweats. was i a little warm wearing sweatpants in 85 degree weather? yes, but i didn’t have time to change. my shoes were orange flip flops (i’m not even sure they’re mine–i think they’re presley’s–and they’re too big), my blue “no wine til i lose the behind” t-shirt. my greasy, unwashed hair was pulled up in a not-so-fashionable ponytail. clearly i was not pulling off the i-can-wear-anything-and-still-be-smokin-hot look. then i realized something else. i wasn’t wearing a BRA!

as the art teacher and i stood there in awkward silence (waiting for whatever kid i was there to get–for the life of me, i couldn’t remember), i retraced my journey. i had been to 4 different schools, the grocery store, the ups store, the bookstore, hobby lobby and the library–all without proper bosom support and wearing questionable homeless couture. side note: i’m sure the whole “homeless look” is all the rage in paris this fall, but in fort worth texas you can get a free hot meal wearing this get up.

the art teacher smiled at me again and i smiled back, but it was so bizarre. i wanted to get the hell out of there before i could embarrass myself any further. i folded my arms across my chest, hoping to make the fact that i forgot to put on a bra not so obvious.

the art teacher obviously had nothing else to say to me, so to kill time waiting for class to be dismissed i started naming as many types of fish as i could think of (in my head, of course–i’m quite certain that if you start calling out words like TROUT, BASS, SEA URCHIN without provocation, you might get your kids taken away from you–i can’t say that with 100 per cent certainty, but i think it’s a pretty good guess.

one thing became even more crystal clear–i shouldn’t be allowed out in public.

i kept thinking, what’s taking so long? where is that kid? who am i picking up anyway? and then harley (HARLEY! yes, that’s it! i came to get harley!) came running to the door showing off her clay model of what looked like a dog in heat. i saw the teacher’s pitiful gaze fall upon my third child and i knew then that he felt sorry for her. what, with a mother who will go around town looking like she just rolled out of the gutter and all. he said goodbye and i waved. we turned to leave and i motioned for harley to hurry and get in the car. i felt his eyes on me as i opened my car door and climbed inside. one thing was for sure–i was so going to be dinner conversation. he probably couldn’t wait to get home and discuss me over cocktails. dammit! i hate giving people material. still, i didn’t really know what was the big deal. wasn’t it much ado about nothing? so what if i was wearing sweatpants? so what if my shoes were plastic…and orange…and too big? so what if i “forgot” to put on a bra? europeans don’t wear bras. i could be european. in fact, i’m quite sure i am. just not directly. directly i’m from mississippi and indiana and….possibly some inbred community in tennessee–but that’s another story–and it’s adorable. BUT indirectly, i’m very european.

i pulled down the vanity mirror and gasped–and that’s when i figured it out. i knew then why the art teacher had asked if i’d had a rough day. it wasn’t my ensemble at all. it was the fact that i only had makeup on half my face. i had put eyeliner and mascara on only one of my eyes and it was quite obvious. and the makeup on that one eye had smeared, giving the impression that somewhere along the way things had taken a nasty turn. i looked so completely ridiculous that it was hard to look at myself in the mirror. i closed the mirror, turned around to face harley in the backseat and asked, “does something look different about me today?” maybe it wasn’t as bad as i thought. she made a face and said, “you mean because you only have makeup on one side of your face? AND because your outfit looks weird?”

ok, it was as bad as i thought.

so i’m the butt of the joke. what’s new? the only thing i’m pissed off about is that i’m not charging for my services. anybody need a completely ridiculous person to entertain your guests at your next party? pointing and laughing costs extra.

by the way–how many types of fish can YOU name? without cheating.