Hmmm…Aren’t You Forgetting Something?

I bet she doesn't have to wear a bra!

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…

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