Friday, 26 April 2013

Wardrobe Malfunction or The Thing That Dangled.


So there I was, minding my own business, going out to the shop to get stuff (day off), when the Gods decided to play a wee prank on me (bunch of Celestial funny men/women/things). 

I'd been trying to work on a scary short story, but I wasn't in a creepy enough mood. I kept putting inane jokes in, and was really beginning to annoy myself. So it seemed like a excellent time for a breather, and the purchasing of the afore mentioned "stuff".

It's wild, wet and a bit cold here today - between the sunshine and rainbows - so I left my long, swishy cardigan on under my coat, just as an extra layer, even although it dangles down a bit here and there. I  have also recently acquired some rather nice boots that needed road testing.  So, looking cool as mince, as per (NB: if you're reading this and you know me, just - you know - shhhh! - I'm pretty sure I have everyone else thinking I'm more Legolus than Gimli son of Gloin, so, let's just keep it that way), slapped my headphones on my bonce, and was about to leave the house to walk the half mile along the main road through the village to the shop, when I remembered I needed money. I flounced back into the bedroom to get some, and that's when something caught my eye in the mirror.... something dangling from underneath my coat. Was it a bird? Was it a plane? No - but almost as big and  a hell of a lot more embarrassing: my sports bra! My gigantic, black sports bra had attached itself to my cardigan and was proudly hanging down behind me.

CAN YOU IMAGINE IF I HADN'T NOTICED! If I had, in fact, walked merrily down the road with it trailing behind me as it bounced along the grassy verge, carefree, cups to the wind; a mini loch Ness Monster on a days outing, flapping up in the air as cars containing my friends and neighbours passed.  They might have tooted and pointed to alert me, and I'd have been giving them the thumbs-up back, thinking: dang, my new boots are popular.  The maiden-aunt-esk phrase: "well, it's clean and paid for" would have been absolutely no flaming comfort whatsoever.

Luckily, my youngest son is off sick (Caring Parent of the Year Award is in the bag, oh yeah!), so he was available to drag himself downstairs from his Bed of Pestilence (or it could have been away from his PS) to come and see the outrage, which could easily have forced his dear Mama into self-imposed exile, probably disguised as a man called something like... Hugh Dalrymple; or even required me to fake a heart attack (again) to deflect everyones' attention away from me being the knob with the bra-tail.  He laughed it up good style!

Anyway, it all gets me thinking - maybe naturists have it right, because such a situation would never have arisen, had I been heading out the door starkers......seems the obvious solution really. Okay, good, so that's decided - KIT OFF EVERYONE - FIRST ONE WITH HYPOTHERMIA'S THE LOSER!!

TUNE: Biffy Clyro "Mountains" (he he!!)

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