It's A Wonder

A Real Shame (Part 1)

Usually, when these stories begin, the main character whimsically runs through the crowd. Even if she's clumsy, she's doin' it with grace, style, an accidental bump or two, but who really cares when she looks that good? 

Hair brushed out. Outfit made for a decent passport photo. And those shoes, help another girl out and tell me the site and the brand. 

"That's a real nice set of planets you got there." 

I would kill the main character to have her embarrassing moment. 

My new dress is half bunched up near the rear-end part of my stockings. Mostly in the side but still lifting the back, just a tad. 

Everyone could see the beautiful shade of my skin poking through the knees, and the outline of my panties to which they called out to me cause they thought I was a hoe. 

My new nails clashed against my fingers, pulling off enough skin to make me squirm back into the body of my dress. The rain was trying it's best to help me out with the attire problem, but I'd only allow a generous head nod and a sharp edged, "Oh, that's real nice. Thank you kind clouds for your input." 

If your mom told you to wear shoes as a kid, it was for good reason. I could feel the pavement on the grooves of my feet, what was hopefully a rock taking a nice little jab at the middle. And I knew I had made the right move to jump over the puddle when a shiny brown piece of glass slid out on the impact of a fat raindrop. 

Thankfully, anything I did catch wasn't a direct hit, since I had been smart enough to put socks on before I left the house. Doesn't stop the city sidewalk from being dangerous enough that I genuinely considered stopping to risk putting on my heels. Which therefore meant having to get in a cab with a strange driver, rather than be sent home right as I got to work because the janitor didn't want to clean up any more of my blood, dirt, and tears. 

Dramatic? I think... 

Well, I thought I wanted to cry right then and there. 

My hands were playing the best juggling game I could hope for in a situation like this. Two heels, a bag-like brief case, and the handle of my Yeti cup in one hand. My jacket and a once freshly baked bagel from yesterday morning in the other. 

30 minutes, that's all I need to get ready, tops. Wake up at 5:30, immediately do a quick rinse in the shower, get dressed, snack on something for breakfast, gather necessary materials, and sometimes funny unnecessary materials, and then put on shoes as I leave the house. 

Today, I felt extra lazy, so I ended up extending my showering routine until my five minute alarm rang. By then, I was only just beginning to throw the shampoo into my hair. Which, great, I always left that for night showers, but I suppose I can risk my entire morning and then show up to work with damp hair that took like four hours at a time to dry just because I wanted to take my time. Great call, me. Really splendid work there. 

I got pointed out by a mother, who then told her child not to point, even though the kid was just making sure that I was the lady whose outfit she shouldn't live up to. A couple of men, with their giggling wives or girlfriends, whistled at me. And a nearby stork clerk tried to make me smile by pointing to a "No Shirt? No Shoes? NO SERVICE." sign in the window. I was empathetic, he looked happier when I returned the soft face. 

What really got me was when another group of women walked by. Teenagers and toddlers were one thing, a group of people your age were another. 

"I can't believe she would walk of the house like that," the one smiled. Of course, she probably didn't mean to have me hear, though she obviously wasn't talking any louder or softer than she would if she was telling them about a slightly humorous day at work.