Various states of undress

I don’t know what it is about blogging that makes me want to reveal things about myself that I usually don’t share.

Of course I do.
I’m compelled by the false guise of anonymity.
Have you ever seen the BBC comedy, Miranda? It’s hilarious. Miranda is a 30 something, sexually repressed, boarding schooled only child, with a joke shop that sells chocolate penises and a mother obsessed at marrying her off.  She finds herself, too often, in a state of public undress.
It’s always awkward and she’s undoubtedly discovered, by the man of her unrequited dreams, or her posh judgmental friends.
She’s more than once made me reflect on the state of (public) undress.
Have you found yourself exposed publicly: literally, not figuratively?
I have.
Recollection. Trying on fancy new lingerie (note the use of the term ‘lingerie’ in place of ‘underwear’ because the term ‘underwear’ is not sophisticated nor revealing enough for this fancy product).  Strutting into the kitchen to show it off: ‘Look at me baby.’
It was a winter evening.
The light was on.
The leafless walnut tree in the backyard gave no protection from the neighbours.
I believe more was revealed than intended…or at least the audience was larger than first anticipated. Hmmmm…
There was the time I was late for the bus. Running along Charles Street, Moonah, with backpack askew and handbag across my chest which quickly resulted in not one, not two, but the majority of the buttons on my shirt splitting open.
I missed the bus.
It was a necessary evil.
One day whilst doing laps at Friends’ pool in New Town, my speedos gave up the ghost.  Literally, the seam split A to T.  Fortunately, my gal was there to bring a towel over to the pool edge and help me out, discretely.
I missed out on a spa that day.
Then there was that time buying The Gourmet Traveller at the Salamanca Newsagent. My handbag was swinging draped across my chest, (do I never learn?) over the black and white striped shirt with the dodgy buttons. I paid for the mag, put my wallet away and looked down. Yep, I’d conducted the
ENTIRE transaction completely exposed.
Flippin’ button undone.
Not long ago, I went drinking with my friend’s sons and they told me their own southern exposure stories. I know it happens. Even to young men.
But that doesn’t make it right does it?
Make me feel better. What have you unwittingly exposed?
Skye xxx

3 thoughts on “Various states of undress

  1. There are the many times I thought I was taking off a jumper and found I had also grabbed my shirt (usually in small meeting rooms, where you cannot keep walking and pretend nothing happened). But for pure, naked boob exposure you cannot beat what happens during breastfeeding.

    The first time I ran onto my front porch with my boobs flapping and dripping around me was when my baby did a huge vomit all over his father. We keep old towels in a wooden box on the front porch, ready for muddy dog paws. I had been using the breastpump while Scott fed our boy. A volcanic spray of vomit covered Scott, so I ran outside to get a towel. An interesting time to be our neighbour.

    I wish I could say I learned my lesson then, but I spend a lot of time with a boob or two out to pump milk. And, well, when bub needs something he needs it immediately, so I don't take time to stow away the boobs. And then my sleep deprived brain gets distracted, one thing leads to another…you get the picture.

  2. Dear Snuva

    If it is a consolation to you, I have just had my second swimming costume disaster. The small tear that appeared doing laps Sunday, has become another state of undress. They are my favourite togs, navy blue boy-leg Zogs with green piping. Well they've hit the biscuit. I know this officially because my right breast finished a lap tonight before my left. Much harder to conceal doing backstroke BTW.

    For the record, and before you and the rest of the global community get the wrong idea, this has happened twice, which makes it a coincidence not a trait.

    Two Girls About Town reckon that the breastfeeding experience is wonderful but totally up there in the naked boob stakes. Your breast exposure has gone from high art (when it's all about sexy cleavage albeit sometimes accidental) to high exposure. Fortunately, breasts are so nice they probably should be seen in public more often. Trend setter. And breast wishes with your lovely baby.
    Thanks for posting. xxxx

    p.s hope daddy-o cleaned up okay!

  3. Why can't scientists concentrate on the IMPORTANT problems in life, like cloning favourite clothes and finding silent packaging for choc tops so I do not feel compelled to slap noisey choc top eaters at the flics? Curing cancer and global warming is all very well, but you need to clone that cossie, it sounds great!

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