jakorte's blog

As best I can recall, the true story went something like this:

My 1990’s prudish self was horrified to discover a friend had left home in flimsy, wispy skirt without a slip. To me, that was simply an unheard of and not wise thing to do. My friend argued that slips were archaic – it was the 90’s for Pete’s sake! I warned her, “Someday, you’re gonna regret it!”

Shortly thereafter, I decided to wear a cute blue dress. I had done laundry and knew for a fact that I had washed my blue slip. I was running late and couldn’t seem to find that slip anywhere, so I donned some recently laundered pantyhose and flew out the door.

Once at the office, I stopped in the restroom. That’s when the trouble started.

As I yanked up the hose, my pantyhose ripped to the point of near disintegration. There simply was no more rear panel, if you get my breezy drift. So, I removed them. That left me with no slip and no hose. I was also rather unfortunately and uncomfortably without underwear, due to the original omission of such. Hey, it was the 90’s after all – nobody wore pantyhose AND underwear! No worries, though. That’s what stores are for. So, I jumped into my car, and headed out in search of a nylon solution – hose or underwear. I really didn’t have a preference.

I arrived at my mega-store destination and was surprised to find the parking lot rather packed. I had to park a good deal away from the store entrance. I moved quickly into the middle of a late fall Tennessee bluster that threatened to expose a good deal more than just the lack of a slip. I began my trek cautiously. With my wallet in one hand, and the other gripping my dress hem, I realized I was about to slip up and potentially give a bunch of folks a real weird show. At this point, I began to hurry across the parking lot. I remember being distractedly curious as to who all those annoying close parking people were, and why on earth they were shopping so early in the morning.

Then, I completely lost my grip and dropped my wallet. Bent over to retrieve it, the back side of the dress deftly whipped itself into the lower part of my rear anatomy causing a rather severe blue wedge.

At this point, the front portion of the dress was about to take flight, because I was no longer hanging onto the hem with my fingers. I was reduced to using the elbow part of my arm because my hand was now reaching for the wallet. Trying to restrain the flapping fabric that way wasn’t very effective. Major slippage!

Somehow, I recovered enough to yank the material from its pleated state, pick up my wallet, and hope there were no witnesses.

Disappointingly, a quick look around confirmed that every shopper in the lot had stopped to focus on me. Hands stayed on carriages, but heads turned as they passed by. Bags stalled as groceries were being transferred to trunks. Those heading in, crossed over to the next aisle, children in tow, glancing back to be sure I wasn’t going to either follow them or flip my dress up once again.

And all because I wasn’t wearing a slip.

The moral of this story is, of course, to always wear a slip.
The submoral, of course, is to make sure that you always follow the advice you give.