It recently dawned on me that all of my latest posts have been fairly serious. Since laughter is the best medicine and no one likes a Debbie Downer apart from SNL, I thought it was time for a little bit of humor, albeit at my expense. So now I'm going to tell on myself.
The first thing you need to know about me is that I am a remedial adult. Seriously, "Adulting" is a term reserved for Millennials and I am squarely in the middle of Generation X, but I guess if the shoe fits..... You would think that after 48 years on this earth I would be better at this whole "Adulting" thing. But, whether we're talking about cooking, car maintenance, power tools, cleaning, finding love, or even just putting myself together I fail A LOT. It is most embarrassing when I fail at dressing myself. I rarely look in a full-length mirror or pay very much attention to my clothes. Sometimes I try, but then I get distracted and before you know it I'm late and don't have time to finish the basics. Believe me when I tell you that many friends have tried desperately to help me to no avail. To top it off, fashion bores me and I am extremely frugal (read:cheap.)
Well, way back in 1994 I started working at Genesis Treatment Center, a Christian-based mental health clinic. To this day it is still my favorite job and there are many times when I wish I could go back to the good ole' days. Dr. Tunnell was the best boss I have ever known and I still love him with all of my heart. He employed an amazing staff of psychiatrists, psychologists, clinical social workers, licensed professional counselors and administrative staff. We usually got along, and loved each other like a mildly-dysfunctional family. Those dear co-workers taught me more about unconditional love, grace and mercy than I ever learned at church. There were still many failures on my part usually because of my immaturity and insecurities, and I deeply regret how I hurt people I genuinely loved. But I also deeply regret something I did to myself one day. It was such an embarrassing personal failure that it still causes me to blush when I think about it. You see, one day I simply went downstairs to the bank.
Okay, there is a little more to the story than that. Part of my job consisted of depositing the daily receipts. I counted cash and checks, posted payments, reconciled statements, and wrote deposit tickets. One day the deposit was rather large and I knew it would take the bank teller a bit of time to count everything. This was 21 years ago and long before there were fancy money counters and check sorters. The tellers hand counted all of it in the "olden" days. Well, I had a terrible addiction to Dr. Pepper at the time, the kind that would find me drinking a 6-pack almost every day or two (another thing I regret because it did a number on my health.) That meant a lot of desperate bathroom trips because I usually waited too long. Since I knew I would be at the bank for awhile I made a fateful pit stop in the lady's room.
When I was finished ridding my body of DP, I gathered the deposit (oh, you thought I forgot it like the uncle in Life is Beautiful? I WISH!) and headed downstairs to the bank. Now, I am the kind of person who likes to go unnoticed, so when a few people looked at me curiously as I entered the bank it made me uncomfortable. I fidgeted and focused on the decor and people watching, and wondered if security staff were viewing the feed from the security cameras like they show in the movies. The bank was the focal point of the first floor with huge floor to ceiling windows and everyone who entered the building had to walk by that bank to get to the elevators. Watching those people took my mind off of why the people in the bank were looking at me strangely. After waiting in line for 20 minutes it was finally my turn so I dutifully handed over the deposit to the teller. She counted and recounted the money and after another 10 minutes the deposit was made. She averted her eyes as thanked me for my business and I turned around and left with yet more people staring at me oddly.
I took the EMPTY (thank God!) elevator back to my office and entered the waiting room full of patients. Most of them were regulars so I knew them well enough to greet them and joke around. They were all friendly, but still looking at me with curiosity. Then I entered the receptionists' office to talk to them for a few minutes. As I was standing there one of them asked where I had been. I told her I had been at the bank and she smiled, said, "And the bathroom?" and when I said yes she reached out and pulled my skirt from OUT of my UNDERWEAR!
Y'all, I was 27 when that happened! WAY TO OLD to make a mistake like that! Oh my heavens my face still heats up when I even think about it, because I was also wearing a GIRDLE - that is what we called them BEFORE SPANX for all of you Millennials. My unmentionables were on display in the waiting room full of patients I had to see EVERY WEEK! They were on display in a bank full of customer and staff, AND recorded on the security feed. AND NO ONE TOLD ME! Not one person said, maybe you should pull your skirt out of your undies you ding dong! Why, oh why did they just look at me? Did they think it was a new fashion statement, because it wasn't. We've already established that I do not care about fashion!
I sulked and everyone on staff had a good laugh. You can be certain that I was teased about that for a long time. But I was SO embarrassed that I refused to go to the bank for almost six months! I took the stairs so I didn't have to stand in front of the bank while waiting for the elevator. I refused to interact with patients for awhile either, because many of them SAW MY UNDIES!
And then 10 years later when I was 37, I made another mistake while trying to dress myself. I lived in a beautiful, historic section of San Antonio. My town home was just a few blocks from the church I attended. This was a church full of wealthy, proper people who dressed expensively and showed up with every hair in place, matching clothes, perfect accessories, etc. I never fit in because: Remedial (and poor) Adult.
One day I was running late for church so I quickly dressed and left so I could show up fashionably late. Uh-oh. You should be worrying by now. Although I made it without being too late the church was full so I had to walk up the ailse and pass most of the congregation to sit on the left side of the church. I can't remember what it is called, but the church was shaped like a cross, so the left front was where I was seated. The people next to me were very polite although a few looked at me strangely, but that was nothing new because again: Remedial (and poor) Adult. After church I greeted a few people and then made my way to the bathroom, because I was still addicted to Dr. Pepper. As I entered I chanced a quick look in the mirror and realized that although my skirt was NOT in my underwear, whew, my blouse was on INSIDE OUT! I quickly put my blouse on properly and snuck out ducking my bright red face and practically ran home to hide. Boy, those people would certainly remember me now! How would I ever show my face again? WHY could I not figure out how to get dressed?
Sigh, all I know is I still need some training, or maybe a life coach, or maybe A LOT of therapy so I can figure this stuff out before I do it again, otherwise I'm going to become an old lady streaker or something! At least I've learned a few lessons from these experiences.
LESSONS:
- Girl, CHECK YOURSELF before exiting a bathroom stall or your home!
- BUY a full-length mirror. Target or Wal-mart each sell them for $10. Well worth the cost of your DIGNITY!
- USE said full-length mirror EVERY DAY!
- Consider wearing PANTS because they are harder to tuck into your UNDERWEAR!
PROGRESS REPORT:
- I bought the mirror.
- I forget to use it every day.
- I'm still trying to figure out how not to put my blouses on right-side out.
- I wear pants almost every day now. :-)
Suggestions for improvement are welcome!
