Vignettes: Boo(b) Boo(b)

I have a longer post I need to write (I know I keep saying that, but it's true!). However, since my posts have been few and far between recently, I thought I'd fire off a few short - and fun - ones in the meantime.

First up, I get busted.

Well, sort of. :c)




I awoke on a Friday several weeks ago, groggy as usual. I was just beginning to feel the first signs of improvement after my extended down period, but I was still quite tired. Exhausted, truth be told.

I stumbled over to my closet to find a shirt to wear. I am still in boy mode at work, unfortunately, so I have to attempt to dress the part.

It was only then, at 6:16 AM, that I realized I had neglected to do laundry.

For a while.

As in... well, nearly two weeks.

(Hey, those detergent bottles can be heavy you know! I could barely lift them before I started on hormones!)

I quickly realized the only shirts I had were winter shirts. Since it was going to be in the low 80s without a cloud in the sky, they were not an option.

Sighing, I dug back into my closet.

Way back into my closet.

And finally I found a shirt my nephew C had outgrown that my sister had given to me. My nephew outgrew the shirt when he was 14, to give you an idea of our relative size.

I was too grateful - and groggy - to do much more than shrug on the shirt, grab my laptop bag and backpack, and head off to work, hoping the caffeine kicked in along the way.

I arrived at the office, sat down, and got to work right away.

I typically don't interact much with my co-workers other than a smile and "hello" when I first arrive. That is particularly true pre-caffeine. But on this day, I also had several deadlines rapidly approaching. We also had a company-sponsored outdoor lunch at midday, so I had extra reason to bear down.

I got up once, perhaps twice, to re-heat my coffee or to take a bio break. I was thinking about how to word several thorny passages as I did, so I wasn't really paying attention to anyone else.

Several hours after my arrival, I heard a knock behind me. I turned around and saw R hopping up on my desk to my back.

"Morning, R." I said as I swiveled around in my chair.

"Morning, hon," she replied. "How are - oh, my God!"

Her brown eyes were open wide as she quickly turned her head away from me.

"What's wrong, R?" I asked, baffled.

She continued to look away from me as she replied.

"I'm sorry - but I'm trying not to stare at your chest!" she whispered.

I looked down and immediately saw what she meant.

"Oh, my," I breathed.

The shirt was, well... not as baggy as the shirts I typically favor these days.

The girls are far from spectacular; as I've mentioned, I'm not all that big.

But they were obviously, umm, present. More so than the last time I could get away with wearing this shirt.

Unfortunately, I didn't make that discovery at home, but at my desk, an hour away from home. :#)

"You cannot wear just that shirt in here today, Cass," R whispered.

"I know," I whispered in reply. "But I can't wear it outside at lunch; I'll melt! I don't do well standing still in the sun with shorts and a t-shirt, let alone wearing layers!"

"Well it's either that or put on a show for everyone," said R, beginning to laugh.

I considered that for a moment.

"Well, at least my perspiration smells a lot nicer than it did when I was a boy," I thought.

As it turned out, I made up in ounces what I lacked in an olfactory realization by one or more of my co-workers. Scant comfort, I must say. :D

But I learned a valuable lesson:

A smart girl always has a variety of wardrobe options at all times.

Otherwise you face the consequences of the dreaded "I have nothing to wear!" moment.

Literally, in this case.

So in the future I will have a backup plan in place:

Always have a spare top or blouse handy at a moment's notice.

Or at least a vacation day I can burn.

:c)

***

What better to listen to after that post than one of Eric Clapton's loveliest, most moving songs, from his classic 1974 album 461 Ocean Boulevard?

Incidentally, the album is named after the address of the house he rented near Miami while recording the album. You can see the home - and Eric - on the album cover.