split end

Yesterday I had one of those defining moments as an adult.  This post is not for sensitive readers and could be deemed x-rated.  And it is the gospel truth. 

I put on my VERY old painting jeans to get down and paint the new skirting boards in the living areas.  The jeans are the very same pair that painted the Kildare playground three years in a row.  They have carried me through some tough jobs and have the paint stains to prove it.  I spent a rewarding morning moving around the room transforming those little boards before having to do a quick clean up and head for the supermarket just before school pick up.

After about 15 minutes of shopping and at least 5 aisles later, my hand brushed past my behind and felt flesh!  Alarmed I conducted a more thorough investigation with my hands only to discover that my trusty old jeans had split from the waist to the nether regions and my entire bum was sticking out of my pants!  And yes, you guessed it - I was wearing a g-string.  Now, lesser women would have abandoned the half-filled trolley and bolted for the door, but not me.  I just couldn't bear the thought of wasting another hour doing this all again so I prudently hooked the thumb of my right hand into the seam of my t-shirt and yanked it down as far as possible before continuing my shopping with one hand on the trolley and keeping as close to the shelves as possible.  I grabbed the few remaining items that I could think of in my turmoil and headed, red faced to the tills.  I carefully slid the groceries on to the conveyor belt with my back and exposed derriere pushed up against the shelf before quickly paying and leaving.  There was a moment where I considered grabbing a plastic bag to cover myself but thought better of it.  I went from praying I wouldn't run into anyone I knew to wishing that I would, and the unlikely chance that they would have a big sweater around their shoulders.

From the check out I decided to make a run for it and sprinted to my car, unpacked with my back to the blushing vehicle and collapsed into the driver's seat in hysterical fits of laughter.

Once home and safely inside, having dodged the builders stares, I confirmed my worst fears in my full length mirror and then shared the joke with the oldies.  I figured most of the mall had seen my butt so why not show it to my father in-law too.  Needless to say, the laugh was on me.

This is good.  Ten years ago I wouldn't have been able to share this.  Now I can blog about it.  I have come a long way.