Some years ago, when I was driving to New Orleans for a luncheon with the members of the Jane Austen Society, my skirt felt tight around my waist, so I unbuttoned it to feel comfortable until I got to where I was going. It was an unpressed pleated skirt, kind of full, fastened with only two buttons, one on an extension tab and the other at the end of the waist opening, with no zipper. When I arrived at my destination, I got out of the car, and almost immediately, my skirt was around my ankles. I looked to see who was around to witness this excruciating moment, and I saw only a middle-aged man looking my way. His eyes widened, and he quickly looked away. I pulled up my skirt and buttoned it, thankful that only one person had witnessed my humiliation and more thankful that I was wearing a slip. I had a story to tell my friends, once I was inside the restaurant.
Grandpère and my daughter and I talked about the incident while we were having lunch this week, and we had another good laugh about one of my more embarrassing moments as an inadvertent stripper.
It's that inner trollop thing again, manifesting itself unconsciously.
ReplyDeleteYou see- I read this story and I see the inner composure and calm of one fine human being.
ReplyDeleteYou know a certain mad one is relaying this through is - ahem - sometimes distorted lens.
I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'.
You go Mimi, nothing slows le belle Grandmere down. Skirt goes back up, button gets buttoned and that is that.
Sort of reminds me of the lady who was stopped by the police as she was driving over the new Servern bridge because she was wearing just a nightie and dressing gown. They were convinced that she was a potential sucicide "jumper", and it took her a long time to persuade them that she was actually going to a Womens' Institute "Come as you were when the ship went down" party in Cardiff.
ReplyDeleteMy daughters and I witnessed my wife bending down to pick up her gloves and getting tangled up in the long strap of her shoulder bag so that she had to make a humiliating exit from the restaurant doubled over with the bag stuck under her buttocks. We still laugh about it, but to our shame the girls and I were also doubled up - weeping with laughter and so did not go to her aid.
ReplyDelete"Why Grand-dad Does Inappropriate Things - #128"
ReplyDeleteGuy I didn't know from Adam's House Cat, with a very solemn face, stopped and said something to me that I didn't catch as I walked into the neighborhood Publix a couple of Sundays back. I stopped, turned and said "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that". He said "Your fly's undone". It was - gaping wide open. I laughed, thanked him, and corrected the problem.
Thirty years ago I would have been mortified, now it's good for a giggle.
It only goes to prove that what goes up must come down!
ReplyDeleteDP! Shame on y'all for laughing at that gorgeous wife of yours...
ReplyDeleteYes, TheMe, the inner trollope will out.
ReplyDeleteFran, I don't know about inner composure. What else could I do but pull up the skirt and carry on?
SR, I was come as you are as when the skirt went down.
DP, I see from which side your girls get the cruel and heartless genes.
Lapin, a couple of times, I've been in the presence of men who had missed pulling up the zipper. It's hard for a woman to know what to do. In fact, in both incidents, I can't remember what I did. Did I tell or not?
Enter RR, with his usual low humor.
When I was kid, back in the twilight of button flies, when one of our schoolmasters had missed fastening one or more buttons, we would yell "Sir, your medals are showing!" Supposedly the reference was to the buttons, but I suspected then, and still suspect today, that the expression has deeper meaning.
ReplyDeleteHave you seen MP's header on his link to this post? Very funny! He's ahead hands down on this one.
ReplyDelete"I say Major, your medals are showing."
ReplyDelete"Yes, and they're all long service you know."
There are various euphemisms to use when caught with your flaps down ...
ReplyDelete"I say, it's a bit draughty in here."
"The stable door is open."
"Flying low, sir?"
No doubt more examples will be given by your erudite readers.
Supposedly the reference was to the buttons, but I suspected then, and still suspect today, that the expression has deeper meaning.
ReplyDeleteLapin, really!
MP's title is funny. I thought of using a variation of the stripper theme, but I feared it might attract the wrong sort, so I went with something tamer. Look what happened. It attracted the wrong sort anyway.
There's our friend Phil. I ask again Phil Fuller what? Medals this time, I suppose.
SR, thanks for the suggestions. For a woman, it's not so much knowing what to say, as it is in saying it at all.
I forwarded this to David (he's out of town for the week).
ReplyDeleteHe wants me to make sure that if we spend another day hanging out together that you promise to stay clothed!
Of course, nowadays, you could just wear the slip, and all would be well.
ReplyDeleteDennis, tell David no promises. Sorry.
ReplyDeleteKJ, very true. This was a while ago, before wearing lingerie on the outside became popular.
A friend of mine used to tell the story of the skinny elderly supply priest who one Sunday morning forgot his belt. Halfway through the service his pants fell down to his ankles. So my friend's father and the priest made a solemn procession to the sacristy at the offertory so the priest could pull his pants back up and then they made a solemn return. Poor old guy was waddling, but only the daughter was the wiser.
ReplyDeleteCaminante, your friend's father and the priest handled that with grace and aplomb with one extra procession that no one noticed.
ReplyDeleteDuring the break in our Russian class a couple of weeks ago one of my fellow students said to her partner, also a student, "Do you have a license to sell hot dogs outside?" I could not figure out what she was talking about. She had to repeat this odd phrase. After I saw him zip up I realized what she meant.
ReplyDeleteIndeed, Grandmère, no matter how tame your title this place attracts a very wrong sort.
Someone's inner trollop is having quite the blooming season this spring. Heaven help us when she encounters my outer slut in NOLA. Do bring GP to chaperone!
Paul, sometimes GP is bad, too, but not as bad as I am.
ReplyDelete