As I was reading a friend's recent post to Facebook discussing 25 random things about himself, he mentioned a much anticipated interview in which he donned his best suit. He went on to say how well he thought the interview went until he noticed, afterward, the dryer sheet protruding from his shirt cuff. That statement brought back some great dressing faux pas's I have had over the years.
In or about 1994, I was working as a manager for the Boston office of a national law firm. My office had a circular window that went from floor to ceiling with a view looking up Boylston Street. The green monster of the Red Sox stadium loomed in the distance as one of the many landmarks within this "view to die for."
That year, I was a stressed out, harassed mother of two who lived somewhat as a single mom while her husband worked on his post-doctoral fellowship with a dual appointment at Harvard's Department of Genetics and Massachusetts General Hospital. We saw Druck on Sundays and that was pretty much it. My days consisted of getting the kids up early in the morning and readying them for school. Druck would walk them to school since I had to be off to work well before their time to leave. I would walk down to Concord Avenue, take the bus to Harvard Square, where I would catch the Red Line (subway) to Park Street and change trains to the Green Line which I took to Arlington Street. Coming home was the same thing - in reverse.
Some days were crazier than others as I'd race out of that office at 5 pm to try to make it back to Harvard Square and catch the 5:20 bus. It was imperative that I got the kids from after-school-care by 6 pm; otherwise, the blonde lady with the glasses would be standing at the end of the driveway on the crumbling curb with my kids, all three waiting impatiently for my arrival.
Everyday seemed to have some kind of hitch, not unlike most people who are parents in a big city or who use public transportation, or who are just parents PERIOD. Either the bus was late, it broke down, or my slip fell off, which is what occurred one spring day as I raced wildly to catch the train. That particular day, the managing partner kept me a few minutes past 5 to discuss the budget for the year until I finally blurted out, "I have to go." "What?" he said, somewhat taken aback by the volume of my voice. "I must go. Now. I'm sorry. My kids. You understand." I gathered up my things, raced down the hall, threw everything into my briefcase and took off like I was on fire, trying to outrun the flames licking at my heels.
As I sprinted to change trains at Park Street, it seemed that my running had become somehow constricted as if I were running the bean bag race back in 7th grade gym class. And because I was that stressed-out, harassed mother of two, it didn't click right away that my half-slip was about to become no slip as it slowly meandered down toward my ankles. My focus was only on catching that train and nothing was going to stop me until the slip was almost around my ankles and I noticed people were staring at me as I reached the platform.
It took all I had to look down because I knew what the looks were about. Sure, I could pretend that I had been selected among a group of women as the next Mrs. America and the talent scouts were descending upon me. Or I could face reality and, as I sheepishly shrugged, smiled, and glanced down at my ankles, I deftly stepped out of the silky piece of lingerie. With a swift kick of my left foot, I slung that slip up onto my arm and, with the dignity my mother told me to always possess, stepped up into the train and sat down with a huff. After stuffing my slip into my briefcase, I made a mental note to never ever wear anything that I had worn during my maternity years. In fact, I would go through my drawers and make certain to get rid of all of those stretched out things that I thought I could somehow salvage after expanding the elastic waistband from a size 3 to 53 and continue to use years later.
My desire to be frugal by folding and scrunching the top of that slip into the top of my pantyhose taught me two things - (1) wear lingerie that fits; and (2) discard all clothing worn during pregnancy immediately after childbirth.
Copyright 2008 liamsgrandma
