A few days ago I was caught in public looking like a middle school sloot. Short shorts, tank top, and platform flip flops. Ok, maybe I looked like I should be doing pedicures for a living. But I thought I'd learned my lesson: Always look presentable.
I didn't.
Last night, Faller and I decided to have wine and lounge around my new apartment. The wine ran out early in the game, so we decided to run to the gas station to grab a bottle of BP's finest. Much, much to my dismay, they didn't sell wine. So we went a little further up the road and found a Publix. Faller and I strolled inside and quickly picked up a bottle of wine. And some pepperoni from the deli. And cheese. Ahh, such fat kids we are. I was impressed with our two minute shopping trip I must say. Once we got into the line, we naturally gravitated toward the tabloids, where we delved in.
Then I saw him. Oh he was gorgeous. Perfect. Straight from heaven this man was. Tall, dark, blonde, scruffy, still in his workout gear. I spotted him walking up behind us and I said, "Look behind you babydoll," as I moved forward to scan my card and whatnot.
Let me back up. Did I forget to tell you what we were wearing? Ahhh, yes. See, the Chain Smoker from days before hadn't taught me my lesson. I'd dug up some old navy blue, spandex, nike capri pants that I wore in my days of kick boxing. I was also wearing a University of Georgia t-shirt that had seen better days. This time, I had my havianas. But, no watch and no purse. And no bra. Faller wasn't much better. I'd handed her an old pair of gaucho pants, a Miller Lite tee I'd scammed off of one of the promotional models they send out to bars, and she'd found some sparkly sandals under my bed. She looked like she got dressed in the dark. Did I mention the gaucho pants that I assured her would be fine because, hey, we were only running up to the gas station! Oh, and no bra.
Returning to the story at hand. Faller lets out a few choice words and dashes up beside me. Laughter was uncontrollable as I was signing. I thought it couldn't get any worse than a cold grocery store when you don't have on a bra. Then he spoke. He. The angel.
"Do I have something on my face? You two cracked up when I walked up here."
Damn. Mental head-slap. I thought that maybe we looked so bad that we were invisible to him. Nope.
No, nothing was on his face other than absolute gorgeousness. But, in a moment of panic, I said "No. She's was just telling me how ugly you are."
Mental head-slap. What? Why? What would possess me to say this? I don't know. I guess I wanted to throw Faller under the bus and put the attention on her rather than my hot mess self. I failed. I honestly don't even remember what else was said. Time stood still and all I wanted was to fast forward.
You would think that our exit from the grocery store would be the end of the embarrassment. And you would be wrong.
As we were leaving, we saw him walking out. So Faller had the brilliant idea to drive past him. She didn't consider that this meant driving down the aisle in the wrong direction.
We are so lame. And embarrassing.
I can tell you one thing. And it's that I'll be wearing dresses and heels to that Publix until the day I die.
That, and I'm never going braless again.
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