That shirt is notoriously low. I wore it to see Wilco at the Pines Theater in Northampton, MA. When I was not shaken ma thang to the glorious sounds of my boys, I was yanking that shirt back into place. Funny -- you'd think that I would not mind flashing Jeff Tweedy, but that dang Catholic School education has made me quite modest and demure.
So, since I envision myself to be quite the Holly Homemaker -- I decided that I could save my decency by making the straps a little shorter. It worked for the left side, which was adequately covered. But, the right side was no so good.
Last Monday during my mid-morning snack, I looked down and saw a bit of my bra peeping out. It was not a huge swatch, just a sliver on the upper left quadrant of my right boob. For the rest of the day, I was so distracted by this tiny piece of beige fabric that rose above the white shirt. During meetings, I would inconspicuously try to fix the situation. My hand would disappear behind my back, and all of the sudden my short would be yanked up to my neck. Or, I would close my dainty pink sweater.
The worst was in a meeting with a man that I'm friends with, but not close enough to discuss things like boobs and bras. During the whole conversation about strategy and implementation, I worried that he could see bra. If he did, I wonder if he found it titillating. God, I hope not.
I'm not sure what the worst part was -- that bra was showing, or that it was a BEIGE bra -- how boring, no wonder I can't get a man. Beige is very practical, but not very sexy. To quote someone I begrudginly like, it's time to bring sexy back. Add it to the shopping list -- blue, pink, green, maybe even some red bras. Old Sister Mary Catherine would be shocked!
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Introducing a new feature . . .
Songs You Can't Play at Work:
I Don't Wanna Fuck Off Any More
By the The Minus Five
You can find it on "I Don't Know Who I Am"
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