Let’s see … I woke up at 9:10, somehow was able to leave The BF, threw on some clothes, brushed my teeth and met up with TC, my Aunt J and my Aunt Sarah for breakfast.

I spent most of the breakfast in a semi awake state, morning dreaming of The BF and I still snuggled up together in bed.

When my food finally arrived — the special, my eggs over easy with hashbrowns, rye toast and goetta {said like: get-uh}, I got down to business. So naturally by the time I got home, I was ready for a post breakfast blitz nap.

Next thing I knew, it was well after 1p.m. This is my idea of the perfect way to begin a cloudy, overcast and slightly cool Saturday. I’m about to get my yoga on and maybe walk B and see Maman.

Yes!

Maman is here! Here and I haven’t even seen her yet! Okay. So she did just arrive at 10a.m., but I’m trying hard to control myself. I think I can only maybe make it another two hours before I have to march over and bust up her nice little sibling meeting. They’re in the midst of boring, grown-up-y things — handling Gpa’s estate.

So yesterday. I have a nice little story for you. Which really is quite possibly my most embarrassing moment … to date. Even more embarrassing than the time at Virginia Tech when I was walking across the drill field and took a step up and totally bit it — yeah, I tripped over the first step.

I’m sprawled out on all fours, my bag and all the stuff in it tumbled out and I was left looking like a complete fool with a few hundred co-eds around me. Not one of whom bothered to ask if I was okay. I did the only thing there was to do – got my ass up, after the shock wore off, picked up my stuff and continued on my McBride Hall way.

It probably wasn’t nearly as humiliating as it felt at the time — I’m sure it was more that I was at an insecure state. I still maintain that one is never around so many insecure people as at college. It’s like a breeding ground for insecurity, aloneness and identity crises. What else is bound to happen putting so many 18-22 year old’s together? Everyone’s left trying to “find themselves” and shop at J.Crew.

Back to yesterday.

I was feeling a little sleepy late morning and I thought: “I know! I’ll go shop! That is bound to wake me up.”

Off I went. And wake me up it did. I quickly {I’m a very efficient shopper} had a few super cute things to try on. One being a dress.

I tried the dress on first and knew I should have aborted mission when the first and only needed red flag occurred: I could barely get into it.

I had to put on over the head first and the issue was I couldn’t get my arms through. But did I stop there? No. Of course not. This Taurus is a bit too determined.

I kept thinking — I can get in this thing, come hell or high water!

And I did. And it looked hideous. Absolutely hideous on me. My hips had suddenly expanded by a minimum of six inches in both directions.

I couldn’t get the thing off fast enough. Which was just the problem: I couldn’t get it off.

Now let me digress. I have a fear of getting stuck in clothes.

This all stems from me being 7 {almost 8} and going Easter dress shopping with TC. Why it was TC and not Maman, I’m not sure, but alas, there we were at Tyson’s Corner {still my most beloved mall}. And my fatty little, er big, self got stuck in the Easter dress. I was mortified. TC having to come in and try to get it off me. Me hating all the dresses.

This moment and memory has never left me, in fact, it usually comes to mind anytime I’m anywhere trying on clothes.

And now, here I was again: stuck. Literally. I tried. I tried desperately and furtively in every way possible to get that damn dress off of me. To no avail. I finally called it when I saw how red and swollen my arms were getting from trying to yank it off.

So I did the only thing I was left to do: stuck my head out and asked for help. However, not before I took the time to put my jeans back on — I had to spare this poor woman the horror of possibly seeing me in my skivvies.

I’m sure she thought I was going to ask for another color or size. But no. Instead I quickly usher her in the dressing room, explain I’m stuck and ask her to help me take it off. It was really rather simple, she just had to lift the dress over my arms.

I totally felt like my 7 year old self standing there. Exposed. Terribly embarrassed. Thankfully the ordeal was over very quickly — it took her probably three seconds to get the dress off. And then I couldn’t stop laughing. Which is what I always do when I’m feeling humiliated. I thought of how funny I must have looked and just the fact that I’m stuck and having to ask some random person to take a piece of clothing off for me.

Hey, at least I can laugh at myself.

When I asked her if this had ever happened to her before, there was a slight pause and I thought she was about to say, yes. Instead she’s like “oh no. Never.”

Perfect. I was her first. And I know it was bound to be a memorable, rather smooth, first time experience she’ll never forget.