The Underwear Chronicles: 5th Edition

Dear Ladyfriends,

If you're going to wear a heavy backpack with a lightweight skirt, just--be careful. 

And maybe wear spandex booty-shorts for flash-insurance. With that being said . . .

I'm mostly just astonished that I didn't get whistled at; this campus is chalk-full of construction workers.

I'm also marginally embarrassed, but this blog has ruined me. Instead of locking myself in the bathroom to have a good long cry like any normal person would do after such a mortifying occurrence, "embarrassing" moments transfer to excitement that I get to share something so raucously exposing about myself with the World Wide Web. This complex definitely qualifies as a Simpleton Pleasure. 

Never make a blog. It will ruin your life.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

I whistled and smiled gaily at everyone with whom I made eye-contact as I crossed three major intersections on my way to class after work. The weather was warm and perfect, with a nice breeze. I noted the breeze to be particularly pleasant on my lower half. Too pleasant, maybe. 

I looked down, cautiously and suspiciously, with a bit of fear in my heart.

. . . normal. Whew. What a rare and exquisite treat in my life.

I breathed a sigh of relief and crossed the final intersection with an added spring in my step, as people often do when they are fully clothed. 

Arriving successfully at the other side of the street, I smoothed the back of my skirt down.

Gulp.

There was no back of my skirt. The front looked as in-tact as ever, but the back felt more like freshly-shaven hamstrings than beautiful cotton clothing of joy. Apparently my joy-clothing had hitched a ride on my backpack and slid up to the party that is my lower-back, just enough so that my new lacy underwear could have a nice view of Provo. It was only fair; the rest of my collection of spicy underwear has already seen the outside world at some point. This is my life. 

Already knowing what I would see, I slowly peered over my shoulder.

Oh good. Half a dozen guys, suddenly very interested in and happy about something in the sky. Probably a new super-hero: The Streak, flying cousin to The Flash.

And this is why everyone in every car had been looking at me like I was the frightening center of their universe.

I really should recognize that look by now. Live and learn. Live and burn.