emBareAssed

Dressing after yoga class I realized a missing button of my buttoned down dress gave an ample cleavage shot. Throughout the day buttons continued to disappear. My slit climbed higher, my neckline plunged lower, with a peep show at my belly button. My checks flushed deeper. Unfortunately this is not the only time I’ve bared too much.

A weekly gym visit with Stacey ranks in the top five embarrassing moments and resulted in the ultimate punk’d experience. Done studying for the night and needing to work out some aggression, Stacey convinced me that lifting weights at 1 a.m. would be great. I closed my solitaire game and threw on an inherited pair of shorts. Thank you Heather. That night I followed Stae through her routine of leg press, lunges and squats.

Leaving the gym I remembered I needed a manila envelope for finals. Stae needed ingredients for coffee cake so we ran to Smith’s. No envelopes there but we did laugh at the poor boy who worked the graveyard shift, certain that he recognized us as the sweaty girls that shopped in the wee hours. We went to Macey’s ran around the store and found my envelope.

Once we returned home Stacey began making her coffee cake and sat down to watch. But as I sat on the wooden chair it felt oddly cold and I stuck to it. Instantly I jumped up and ran to the hallway. From a backwards glance I saw my bare white bum. A gurgling laugh exploded from my throat and Stacey ran to see what happened. Too embarrassed I shook my head and slipped into my bedroom. Moments later I carried my shorts into the kitchen showing her the five inch seam separation. Stacey was convinced the squats had caused the split but I argued that the seam unraveled when I scooted in my seat at home. How would I not have noticed the cold air against that sensitive area?

A few weeks later my friend Paul visited and shared a funny story. He’d been at Smith’s the night before and chatted with the graveyard boy. Scandalous things happen after midnight. The cashier told Paul he saw more than he needed to; including people’s butts. As Paul launched into his story my mouth dropped open. Tears formed in my eyes and between gasps of horror and delight I slapped Paul’s arm exclaiming, “That was ME!!” Paul shook his head in disbelief and I shook mine in sorrow that the gothic world of Provo had seen me exposed. My shame lasted for months.

Then one story telling night as we relived that experience Stacey looked me in the eye and divulged her prank. She had met Paul the day after my shorts split and told him the story, they then planned his visit and my humiliation. I sighed deeply with this knowledge grateful that my assets remained unseen.