I’d like to show you how I usually dress.
I’m serious — I like to be covered up. I don’t mind form-fitting clothes, but I try not to flash a lot of skin. Call it modesty and a healthy fear of sunburn. Mostly modesty, but I’m also very pale, so the sunburn part isn’t a joke.
A month ago I thought I had everything under control. I’d just returned from a Carnival cruise two days earlier, had several freelance projects due, was teaching a cooking class the next day, my husband had a business trip planned, and the kids had school projects and activities. But first things first: my pantry and refrigerator were nearly empty. I can’t think straight without food in the house, so I decided to drive the half hour to the nearest decent grocery store to restock, aiming to be home before dark.
While my husband and I were away, my sister-in-law Elvi not only watched the kids but did the mountain of laundry I’d left behind. I finished my freelance work, sent emails to clients, then grabbed what looked like a tank top, cardigan, and jeans from the neat pile of clean clothes Elvi had left and pulled them on without checking. Hold that detail — it’s important.
I brushed my hair, put on lip gloss, grabbed my purse, and headed out. I took my usual relaxed route through town: Aldi, Salvation Army, Walmart, and Wegman’s. Everything went smoothly — the stores had what I needed, clerks were friendly, and shoppers smiled back. I felt like a productivity queen.
At Wegman’s I checked out, loaded bag after bag into my already-crowded car, and greeted people as they walked by. The warm fall air felt nice, so I cracked open a bottle of sparkling water and sauntered back to my car. I climbed in, lowered the visor to block the sun, and caught my first close-up glimpse of myself in hours.
Remember that detail I told you to hang onto? This is where it matters.
This is how my tank tops usually look after a day of errands and momming — and yes, the sunburn is real.
Only then did I notice my tank top was hanging so low it sat below my bra line, exposing the top of my chest. I realized I’d probably walked around like that for three hours and that most of Hornell had seen more of me than I intended. I nearly died of embarrassment — I blushed so hard my face hurt. I did what any blogger might do: I tugged the shirt up partially and snapped a selfie. That photo was after I’d already corrected the shirt — I’d censored the worst of it to spare what little dignity I had left.
As I drove home with one hand on the wheel and the other keeping my shirt in place (because really, you never know who might glance into your car), I wondered how that had happened. Back at home, I sent the kids out to carry in groceries and raced upstairs to change. The offending tank came off and I examined it. It was a charcoal gray Old Navy tank — except it wasn’t my usual small; it was an extra-large. The penny dropped: Elvi had washed her clothes with mine and accidentally left one of hers in my pile. She’s much better-endowed than I am, so the top fit her but was enormous on me.
I blushed again, then burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. Everyone I’d waved at and chatted with in town might have thought I’d lost my mind or been deliberately showy. The situation was so unlike my usual style that the ridiculousness won out and I couldn’t stop giggling.
I laughed until I started wheezing, which drew the household to my bedroom door. My husband teased, “And I didn’t get to see?” while the boys looked appropriately scandalized. I messaged Elvi to explain and she replied, “Oh geez! That thing is baggy on me! You didn’t stand a chance!”
And that, dear readers, is how a woman who’d happily wear a burkini to the beach — if Nigella could pull it off, maybe I could too — accidentally flashed the town of Hornell and lived to tell the tale. It’s also why I now shop in Geneseo and have sworn off tank tops for a while.
The End.
P.S. Please send turtlenecks.
This post is my eighteenth entry in a commitment to post every single day in November for NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month). Follow along as I share recipes, family anecdotes, and a few giveaways throughout the month.