Normally, it takes a lot to make me embarrassed. I'm the type that can completely face plant, laugh out loud, and continue on. But strangely, I've had two mortifying moments in the last 24 hours...which might be my all-time record.1)
Yesterday afternoon, I went to the mall in search of the perfect "sexy single girl" dress to wear to a friend's wedding in Birmingham this coming weekend. After stumbling upon THE Dress only 10 minutes into the trip (my date won't know what hit him), I decided to spend some time browsing aimlessly before hitting the gym. I poked around the makeup counters, tried on killer expensive shoes, and on my way out the door, thinking nothing of it, sprayed myself with designer perfume (those "tester" bottles are completely irresistible to me. Free
After an impromptu gym-change in the car wash (multi-tasking, baby), I arrived at the Green Hills Y completely oblivious to my impending faux pas.
After a solid 10 minutes on the elliptical, I started to REEK. As my skin heated up, my freshly-sprayed perfume literally permeated the air (the only word I can come up with to accurately describe the smell is "cloying"). My eyes literally started to water. And every person within a 10-foot radius started looking around for the culprit--several of them even sneezed. The old man directly next to me figured it out, shot me a dirty look and got off his machine.
Thank goodness my tomato-red face could simply be passed off as "exertion while running".
But it gets worse...2)
I had my first annual physical with my new Nashville doctor this morning (and didn't bother wearing perfume, thank you). It was all going swimmingly--I sailed through the medical history questions, found out I'm actually TALLER than I've been telling people all along--until the nurse told me to change into the flimsy gown. She left me alone in the room with no further instructions...and I struggled. (Which admittedly sounds quite pathetic.)
There were multiple little ties and holes to thread things and it vaguely reminded me of my bathrobe at home. Since no configuration felt quite right, that's ultimately how I decided to put it on.
After 20 more minutes of waiting, the doctor came in and commenced asking more questions. It wasn't long before I noticed that he was a tad flustered. I looked down...and sure enough, my right boob was poking out of the haphazardly-fixed gown.
The next thing out of his mouth was, "Um, yeah...for future reference, we normally recommend that the gown opening is toward the BACK."
Ugh! Now, I know he's a medical professional and has seen thousands of breasts in his lifetime...but I still wanted to crawl under the examining table and die. Because he'd seen MY breast and didn't even HAVE to.
And I'm sure I'll forever be known around the office as "peek-a-boob" or "frontsy" or something equally horrifying.