A few weeks ago, I took a big step in the world of fashion: I bought my first above-the-knee skirt (above? below? It’s shorter than my legs are, period.) I love wearing skirts, especially in the summer, especially if they have enough material to allow a little swirl in my twirl.
This skirt is all that and a bag of chips. It’s from Bootlegger, navy blue with colored anchors and cutesy shit all over it. I can wear it with literally anything. It even looks good wrinkled, not that I would know that. *ahem*
So last weekend, I was emptying our storage barn of garbage and recycling, getting ready to make a dump run – maybe make some money at the bottle depot. (To buy more pop and beer, of course. It’s the ciiiiiircle of liiiiiife.)
I don’t know what possessed me to decide that wearing the Skirt of Wonder to the dump was a great idea. Probably the same demon that convinced me to wear my lacy white underwear underneath it. I guess I was feeling good about myself.
So there I was, tossing bags of garbage and bottles into my car in a manner that would make a Tetris champion cry.
When I got to the dump, I had to unload a bag of recycling to get to the garbage underneath.
And then, a hurricane-force gale blew in from the coast of South America to make all hell break loose.
The big blue bag of bottles and cans tipped over, and all of my drinking problems scattered around the dump.
Have you ever been to a Walmart on a Saturday? Then you’ve been to our local dump on a Saturday.
I chased my recycling all over the gravel parking lot, hoping one of the thousand people there might help me, but alas. Also? It’s very difficult to grab errant recycling when you’re busy trying to keep your extra-twirly skirt (God why did I choose the extra-twirl?!) where it belongs.
I’m not saying I publicly exposed myself indecently – I’m just saying that Marilyn Monroe would have been embarrassed.
After a few moments of “The Carly Show”, I finally dumped my shit, re-packed my other shit and peeled out. To their credit, I didn’t see anyone staring after me.
Less than an hour later, I made $23 dollars at the Bottle Depot. Suck it, Marilyn.
I told Steve when we saw each other that evening, and we had a bit of a giggle. Then I moved on.
The very next day, we were at the grocery store. (Like I said, we had $23 fresh dollars.) We turned down the pet aisle and saw our friend Mik pushing her cart towards us, her 9-month pregnant belly being adorable. We smiled and chatted for a couple of minutes, and then she threw in this offhand comment – “Oh hey, I saw you at the dump the other day!”
“Oh!” I replied nonchalantly. And then I remembered. “…oh?”
She smiled compassionately. “Yyyyeaaahh.”
“I am so sorry you had to see that.” I’m surprised the sight of my booty didn’t send you into labor immediately.
She was full-out laughing now. “I thought you recovered very gracefully!”
In an attempt to change the subject, I *very gracefully* gestured to her belly and very loudly did my Brian Regan impersonation: “So when’s that BABY due, eh?!” #ProudDoula
What am I trying to say?
A.) Buy the cute skirt, no matter how insecure you are about your legs. Cause your legs are awesome.
B.) Don’t wear it to the dump.
C.) Even if you think you’re at a place where you don’t know anyone, you’re wrong. You live in a town with less than 10,000 people; you are never alone.
D.) Seriously, don’t wear a skirt to the dump.
E.) All of the above.