For example, at my 20 year high school reunion I was seated at a table with Mickey and some former classmates. My husband Mickey was sitting at my left and an old acquaintance, whom we shall call Bob, was sitting to my right.
During the table discussion, one of the people sitting across from me asked if anyone had seen or heard from a girl, whom we shall call Marg, who was also a former classmate.
There was a short pause in the conversation and I piped right up. I said, "I don't know and don't care cause Marg was a wench in high school". Now the table went dead silent as I went off about how Marg was so mean to other girls who didn't dress in the proper bell bottoms or have their hair feathered with just the right wingage. She would belittle those who were a little different or not part her popular crowd. As I expounded on all of my Marg wisdom, I certainly did not pick up on any of the social cues that were flying my direction from those seated at our table. I finished my commentary about Marg, took a bite of food from my plate and turned to Bob sitting to the right of me and asked, "So Bob, now who did you marry".
Without hesitation Bob replied, "Marg".
Just imagine my surprise. I must say that I'm not anymore graceful getting out of these situations than I am getting into them. I just stared at Bob and finally came up with the snappy reply of, "Still a wench."
I haven't been to a reunion since. Maybe I'll shoot for my 70 year reunion in 2049 when we will all be about 90 years of age and either Bob or myself will have dementia, be in a home or 10 feet under.
It's not always the things I say that get me into these rather awkward situations but believe it or not, it is sometimes the things that I do.
One morning in the early 90's I got up to go to the local gym. I dragged myself out of bed at 5:30 am to workout at 6 am. When I got up I didn't want to disturb Mickey so I quietly dressed in the dark, putting on one of my snazzy unitards and my high top Reebocks and then headed out the door.
For those who don't know or remember, a unitard was a popular piece of workout clothing that cool, aerobic type chicks wore to their workouts in the early nineties. Mine was all black and much like a leotard but the scoop neck fit just under my boosies. Therefore, I wore a tight fitting, cream colored shirt under this unitard with matching cream tights. I was happenin'.
When I got to the gym I headed for the stairmaster and hopped on. After climbing along for a few minutes I started noticing some stares coming my way form the stationary bike section. Most of the people riding the bikes were men. I started thinking, "I bet they like my unitard. I'm dead sexy in my unitard."
The stares kept coming my direction. I was feeling flattered. When I finished the stairmaster, I walked over to lift some weights and noticed that I still had the attention of the stationary bike section but now I had the attention of the free weight section too. I was popular that day.
I picked up my weights and started lifting. As I was lifting I noticed in one of the mirrors surrounding the weights, that something just wasn't quite right in my crotch area. I squinted into the mirror trying to see what was amiss and noticed that there was a white strip of something stuck to my nether regions. I thought, "What in the world is that? Oh my gosh NO! That looks like a kotex pad there".
Now I knew I hadn't stuck one there that morning so I nonchalantly moved closer to the mirror to see what the mystery white crotch thing was. As I got closer and closer I realized that it wasn't a pad but I couldn't figure out just exactly what it was so I kept lifting weights while studying the area in question.
At last it came to me. I realized that my snazzy black unitard was inside out and the white, cotton crotch panel was clearly showing for all to see.
I finished my workout since everyone in the gym had already seen the white mystery crotch panel and then went home.
I'm off now to go workout in good ol' shorts and a t-shirt combo.
Unitards were never a good idea anyway.
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