Mrs. Cap’n Firepants (which might rival Dr Seuss for Most Memorable Pen Name) writes that she is ”the distinguished authoress of the blog, What I Meant 2 Say.” She also writes that “she completely defied aging until about two years ago – when she acquired the infamous and extremely destructive bulldog, Wonderbutt. Now, her wrinkles outnumber the dog’s. She is a clinically depressed hypochondriac with an eating disorder who enjoys chronicling the lives of the Firepants family and participating in various other hobbies as long as they do not interfere with her internet surfing or her nightly viewing of The Daily Show.” The best thing about Theresa, aka Mrs. Cap’n Firepants, aside from her devotion to The Daily Show, is that she is allowing me to use her snappy, irreverent observations on life as I wish, as long as I give her credit. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
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 a while, 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…