You can milk anything with nipples… Meet the Parents
I drive down I-85 on a damp May morning. Being a young prosecutor, I was frequently sent to various parts of the State for conferences, seminars, trainings, etc. and I have two words for you, “Open Bar.” Unfortunately, this training was during the day so no free pineapple and vodkas for me. I was particularly excited that morning because the three weeks of running were starting to pay off and I could finally fit into this fitted cream colored shirt I had bought a few months prior at Banana Republic. After I bought it, it was far too tight to wear and this morning it fit and the buttons didn’t pull. I quickly glanced at myself in the bathroom mirror before heading out.
I pulled up to the hotel where the seminar was taking place and like most lectures, the room we were in was a perfect candidate for a meat locker so I pulled on a black cardigan before grabbing the incredibly large notebook out of my backseat and heading into the hotel. I took my seat and pulled out my work issued Blackberry to email my husband about being able to fit into this shirt. He didn’t respond to share my enthusiasm, which he says is because he’s working and I think is because he’s a skinny bitch.
After a few long hours passed mainly by playing brick breaker on my blackberry, I headed out to lunch. Given that my coworker had totally punked out and bailed on the seminar I was alone. A heavy downpour had come and gone while I was inside and a new thick humidity known only to South Carolinians hung in the air. I quickly pulled off my cardigan and got in the car. I drove down to a sandwich place and went through a drive thru to get a sandwich. After eating my sandwich in the car and catching up on my work emails, I went to Barnes and Noble to browse and pass the remaining forty five minutes. I walked down the cookbook aisle to find a woman in business wear sitting cross legged in the floor surrounded by vegan cookbooks. She sees me round the corner and quickly scooches to the side. I don’t care how healthy it is I will never adopt a lifestyle, which will result in my being known as a skinny bitch and ofcourse it’s the lack of dairy, I mean no butter, no cheese, no milk that equals no cupcakes. At least not good ones because a gluten free, flour free, sugar free cupcake isn’t a cupcake it’s a dietary supplement. I breeze past the Angels and Demons display complete with Gargoyles and pictures of Tom Hanks surrounded by cardinals. I head to the biography section stopping to exchange an email or two. I scan for a hardback with argyle socks on the cover and quickly snatch up a copy for a friend’s birthday. I then head to the card section and debate over cards. I read a handful of cards and finally pick up a gorgeous letter pressed card only to flip it around and see the price tag and scoff. I know Jenny and this card is likely to end up jumbled in paperwork on her desk so I put it back and opt for a cute gift enclosure. I check my watch and head to the restroom.
I walk to the back of the store and head to the restroom. I walk to the sink and wash my hands when I look up and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes grow wide and I gasp. I find myself staring at myself in the mirror shocked that I have been walking around a store for a half hour like this. I realize that not only can you see through my cream colored shirt you can also see through my white bra underneath. I stand there dumbfounded, mouth agape, wide eyed and staring at my nipples, which are totally visible. The white bra underneath I had found during a trip to the Victoria’s Secret annual sale the week prior. The bra was on sale and a perfect fit so I had thrown it on this morning. The bra was cotton and a little see through when I put it on but I had no idea it was that transparent.
I devised a quick plan of attack. I stepped outside of the restroom and grabbed the book that I had laid on the table outside for unpaid merchandise. I clutched the book to my chest like Laura Ingles on her way home from school. I walked right to the front of the store and stood in line. I adjusted the book against my chest and suddenly felt that everyone was staring at my exposed nipples. The woman in front of me swayed while the salesperson was busy with an individual complaining. She continuously turns around and smiles. I force a smirk and go back to adjusting the hardback book against my chest. If she asks me what I am buying I can’t refuse because she will think I am buying porn, which is totally gross and why God invented Amazon.com. If you think the possibility of having a conversation with a stranger in line is odd, you’ve never lived in the South. It’s entirely acceptable to strike up conversation with a total stranger in line around you. Hell if you are in line long enough you might exchange email addresses and a zucchini bread recipe. I then realize that I am going to have to hand the book to the clerk so I can pay for it. Dammit. Within a few seconds I am summoned to a cashier. She smiles widely and I smile back trying to devise how I am not going to commit a felony while purchasing this book. I hand her the book and quickly swing my purse to sit on the counter in front of me. I bless God for my 5’2 stature and the fact that my purse totally hides “the girls” from view. I pay being careful to keep my purse pressed against my chest. I take the purchase, smile and press it against my chest again. I walk to the car careful to keep my unintentional peep show for showing to the patrons walking past me. I begin to snicker in horror that I honestly had exposed myself to an entire Barnes and Noble.
The horror sets in again when I realize that I have been in a room full of cops, lawyers and judges. Did I really show my nips to a room full of men I have to refer to as “Your Honor”. I begin to relax when I remember I had a cardigan on and I think it covered me. I go back to class quickly pulling my cardigan on and grab my blackberry out of my bag. I quickly emailed a friend to inform her of my faux pas. Within a few minutes, I receive an email back that goes as follows:
Hehehe. Don’t you know that you look at yourself in the mirror before you leave the house in the morning and ask two questions, 1. Do I have a VPL? And 2. Am I exposing my breasts?
Truer words were never spoken.