I’m Sexy – And I Blow It
“So-o-o, how do you feel today?”
These are not the words you want to hear from your husband the morning after your husband’s Christmas party at which you may have had a teensy weensy bit of alcohol to drink.
FYI, I felt fine. No hangover at all. And I remember the whole evening. So, I was not as tipsy as he seemed to think. But that really doesn’t matter if that’s what he thought. Actions speak louder than Blood Alcohol Level.
Apparently, Cap’n Firepants thinks I’m a lot of fun when I have a couple of drinks, but a little worrisome once I cross the line from slightly intoxicated to much less inhibited.
But, let’s start at the beginning.
As regular readers are aware, my biggest concern about the party was my hair. San Antonio has had unseasonable wet and sticky weather for over a week now, and I was experimenting each day before the party to determine a do that would do for the Big Do. This was very productive, as I learned all of the What Not to Hair do’s. In an act of desperation, I did one more test run on the morning of the party, thinking I could just touch it up that evening. When it looked even more disastrous than it had all week (and that’s saying a lot), I plunged my head under the bathroom faucet and drenched my hair. Then I put every hair care product known to
man woman on my follicles, dried this now quite flammable science experiment with my hair dryer, and set to work to do a combination of flat iron and curling iron at the same time.
It looked GREAT! I couldn’t believe it, and what’s worse is that I probably can never repeat it. But I had conquered my biggest obstacle and now it was ON!
I met Cap’n Firepants at the hotel where the shindig was being held. He had arrived earlier to play golf. He liked my hair, and REALLY liked my dress and shoes. I felt like a million bucks.
We met everyone at the bar before dinner, and played shuffleboard. I kept to my mental promise of drinking a soft drink or two between each glass of wine. By the time it was dinner time, I had two glasses of wine and about 10 glasses of Diet Coke.
At dinner, the waiter kept refilling my wine glass when I wasn’t looking. I’m pretty sure the rest of the evening can all be blamed on him. Except for maybe the part when I noticed that Cap’n Firepants hadn’t finished his wine and I drained that, too.
After dinner, we all went back to the bar. And this is apparently when I embarrassed Cap’n Firepants. He does not like it when strange men start talking to me and I continue the conversation. Even if we are just talking about the weather or why the Strange Man is visiting San Antonio.
It’s not my fault Strange Man was close to falling off his bar stool. But, apparently I’m not supposed to encourage such behavior.
Strangely enough, I just posted yesterday about how I regret that I don’t thank strangers enough. I guess I decided to remedy this by being a little TOO kind to strangers instead. Apparently with me it’s one extreme or another.
Anyway, when I asked Cap’n Firepants how exactly I had embarrassed him, that was the most he could come up with. So, I think this will probably not go down on the Most Embarrassing Moments at Office Christmas Parties website – if there is such a thing.
The important thing is that my hair looked great.
Hmmm…Aren’t You Forgetting Something?
I forgot to wear my bra.
Periodically, as I attempt different fashion combinations inside my closet early in the morning, I throw things on without the bra b/c the final topper will determine the foundation, as most women know.
Every once in awhile, I am so flustered and running late, that I head out for the day without that somewhat necessary piece of equipment. I say “somewhat” because, unfortunately, some might look at that general area of my body and wonder why I even bother. However, in certain outfits, and in certain types of weather (such as really cold), trust me, it’s necessary.
The necessity can be compounded by the fact that I am a teacher, and spending an entire day in the classroom with certain pieces of clothing missing is generally frowned upon by anyone other than teenage boys. I don’t teach teenage boys.
I keep a sweater at school for just such emergencies. People tend to question you, however, when it is 107 outside, and you are wearing a sweater in a school whose antiquated air conditioning system can’t even come close to keeping up. “I’m cold, ” does not seem to be a satisfactory answer when your co-workers are fanning themselves with everything from clipboards to old book covers.
Now, if you happen to be one of said co-workers reading this post, let me assure you that I often am cold. I don’t really forget to don my bra that many days per year.
As you may have learned from my other posts, however, I have a tendency toward forgetfulness, which I blame on terrorists or the internet, and which sometimes manifests itself in my periodically incomplete or mismatched wardrobe.
So, I was sitting yesterday at my daughter’s synchronized swimming practice, when the horrible thought sent a chill down my spine. I forgot to put on a bra. That’s why that New Parent at the other end of the table eyed me so strangely!
I waited until I could surreptitiously and nonchalantly walk to the bathroom to try to create some sort of makeshift MacGyver bra. When I closed the door and lifted up my shirt, however, lo and behold, I discovered I actually had remembered after all.
Of course, after the relief wore off, I had to deal with the discomfort of two more tantalizing questions – how could I not know I was wearing a bra? And what else could have made New Parent look at me as though I had walked into the room with toilet paper hanging from the back of my shorts?
Oh, wait a second…