Recently, I am on a trip to North Carolina. It has been very hot both here and there. So, for the trip down, I decide on a loose, lightweight fabric sleeveless top for the plane ride. I've worn this top before, so I don't even give it a second thought when I put it on.
It isn't until I am seated on the plane hours later that I realize -- Oh, crap; I always wear this shirt with a camisole-style bralette underneath because it is a little too loose when I bend over.
Huh. I wonder how many people I flashed in the airport and as I put my luggage in the overhead bin on the plane?
I mean, I am wearing a bra, albeit a smaller version of a lightweight sports-type bra. (Yeah, I know -- sexy, right? I gave up on underwires years ago, folks.) But, still. I am suddenly very self-conscious about flashing most of Logan airport and a good portion of those seated on the American Airlines flight. I don't think I need to be flashing the entire city of Charlotte.
The car rental line is ridiculously long because they seem to be short-staffed, so I check and double-check and triple-check my shifting shirt as I wait to get into my car. Once I am finally situated, I put the GPS coordinates to my destination, but I also ask my phone to avoid highways. I know there are several stores on my way to my destination if I stay on the main drag but away from the thruway.
I locate a Wal-Mart close to my destination. I run inside and buy two cheapo tank tops (since I cannot decide on a white that matches the design in the shirt, or a light blue to complement the navy). Then, I run over to Panera, sneak one tank top into my purse, and head for the bathroom. Yes, I add the layer under my shirt so I can stop flashing my boobies all over the Eastern seaboard.
It's not my first fashion malfunction, and it sure as heck won't be my last, knowing me. But, at least I have not been arrested in North Carolina for indecent exposure nor for scaring the masses, so there is that.
