Can we get an address?
Wearing a black bra under a white shirt. In my defense, I had started with a dark shirt, changed my mind, didn’t look in the mirror again before leaving for work.
Yep, done this myself. I was working at a place with a uniform of white shirt, black pants, black shoes. So that one brown shoe really stood out.
And the bitch floor manager I worked for made a point of checking to see if my shoes matched every day for the rest of the time I worked there.
I was once so strung out on OTC cold medication (something like Comtrex, IIRC) that I walked out of the restroom at work with the back of my skirt neatly tucked in my pantyhose. The first person who noticed it in the hallway was laughing so hard she couldn’t catch her breath to tell me. :o
How about the time that I had some sort of skin acne cream that had the side effect of flourescing under black light. I walked around all night in a dance club, getting strange looks, only to go to the bathroom a couple hours later (which fortunately had black lights as well) and discover I looked like a lost a preschool fingerpainting fight.
More and more lately I catch myself leaving my condo without my dentures.
What’s worse are the times I don’t catch myself and actually appear in public without my dentures.
I’ve had nightmares about this very thing. It hasn’t happened to me yet, but dang, I’d be leaving myself a note or something. How about a post-it on the steering wheel? Or put your housekeys next to the denture cup?
One night, while getting ready to wash my face before bed, I realized that I had been walking around, most of the day, with a hot cocoa mustache. Damn those big mugs, and yummy cocoa.
I’m not at that stage yet, but I do occasionally check to make sure I have pants on before I leave the house.
On a related note, I put a curler in my bangs each morning, and I am so used to having it in, that I have nearly left the house with it in my hair.
If I put the house keys next to the denture cup, I’d lock myself out of my own condo------The post-it on the steering wheel has real potential though----Thanks for the idea.
I occasionally get grey hairs that grow straight out of the side of my ears (not out of the ear canal - out of the cartilage about 1/2 way up the ear). Usually you can’t see them but if I haven’t had a haircut in a while they can get pretty long, as in inches long.
A few years ago we were at dinner & I had just gotten a pretty short haircut that day but forgot completely about checking for those hairs. During dinner I was chatting to the guy across the table when my GF (now wife) spotted a hair, and thinking it was a stray dog hair, reached over and gently tried to pull it off my ear.
The end result being my whole head slowly being pulled to the left while in the middle of a conversation. 
I went to work one morning for my 7am shift, taking the CTA and walking a couple blocks, plus stopping for coffee. Worked until noon when I finally took a bathroom break. Still had a piece of tissue in the middle of my forehead from when I had popped a zit at home that morning. Nobody had even looked at me funny, much less told me it was there.
I was in tech college, wearing a favorite pair of “dress” pants that I had already pretty-much worn to death. But as a student, I nursed all my clothing along rather than pay money for more. I had tuition to pay.
One of the instructors told me that I had rip in the butt of my pants. The guy was a known practical jokester so I ignored him. He then began to laugh and repeated that I had a rip in my pants. I was trying to keep my cool but he wouldn’t let up and several of the other students were laughing too. I didn’t want to reach behind me to find out, especially since I was the only woman in the class.
But they were right. I ended up wearing two butcher aprons for the rest of the day to cover the issue.
Good thing I had semi-sensible underwear on that day.
Not really a personal “laxity” but it’s was pretty freaking embarrassing to leave an overlong work meeting and discover that my right breast had begun to leak, and I had a wet spot on the front of my sweater. I don’t even know if everyone in the meeting was aware I was newly back from maternity leave and breastfeeding. No one ever mentioned it.
Both of mine are wedding-related, one of which the post previous reminded me about. Back in the 80’s when my daughter was new, I travelled back home with her to attend a wedding of a friend. It was one of those “Noon wedding, Reception at 4” events, and I had to travel about 35 minutes to get to the wedding. That morning, my daughter decided to sleep through the night AND sleep in in the morning. Since I had bottles for her and was in a bit of a rush, I didn’t even think about the effect a night and morning without breastfeeding would have on me, and I was wearing a cream and blue printed dress in a slinky material. Catholic wedding, so…long. Halfway through I was getting very uncomfortable and knew I was in trouble…and then somebody’s baby cried. Within minutes I was soaked to the waist. The thin fabric became see-through, and since it was polyester it didn’t absorb. I made it through the receiving line with my purse clutched over one boob and my program over the other, then dashed to the car and raced home…35 minutes of agony…I had nothing in the car I could pump into and didn’t even think about alternatives. I won’t bore you with the fun details of trying to feed my daughter when I got home, but everything I was wearing was soaked and I had to shower and wash clothes and dry them and then race back for the reception.
The second incident involved, once again, my daughter and a wedding…hers, this time. We had the event in the party room of a bar/restaurant, and the bathrooms opened directly into the room, about midway along the room, and the door to the first part of the bathroom with the sinks was left open much of the time…the stalls were around a corner and not visible. I used the bathroom, then stood at the sink (with my back to the dining room) washing my hands and chatting with other guests, when all of a sudden four other guests came racing into the bathroom and one spun me around while another one yanked my dress and my slip out of the waistband of my pantyhose and panties. They surrounded me while I got decent. Hopefully they were the only four people who noticed me moon the entire dining room at my daughter’s wedding. But of course, they told my daughter and remind me about it everytime we have a party!
I had that too, in the discotheque, with a white miniskirt that had a beige dusty footprint on it, from when it had lain on the floor in my room and someone had stepped on it. Under the blacklight in the discotheque, the footprint shone out like it had been painted in black, right across my bum.
When I found out, I wasn’t too embarrassed, actually. I had had a lot of guys come up to me that night and say something flirtatious about it.
As for the rest; I’ve had
-a skirts falling down in a puddle around my knees ( was 18)
- a long skirts tucked in my underwear when I left the bathroom in my office (no mirrors!),
-that time when I went to the office and totally forgot to replace the ratty muddy old birkenstocks I had been doing yardwork in that morning…
-Thick pantyhose that sagged very quickly, makign it necessary to hoik them up every ten minutes or so, and that was while walking in the city with no safe hoiking places around…
I love this story. I shall think of it next time the cicadas come and I find myself either wearing or holding hands with one. 
The nursing mishaps stories remind me of the time when I was a gusher nursing a newborn. I had some of those disposable pads you could tuck into your bra. One escaped and was hanging out in the middle of my chest for all coworkers to see. Fortunately I don’t get freaked by this kind of thing.
I would however freak if my skirt was in my stockings. Wearing slips helps, though I’m not sure why I seem to be the last woman on the planet who consistently wears one!
Once I left the house without penciling in my eyebrows. I have no natural eyebrows to speak of, but I’m pretty good at drawing them in so people think I do. That day I got a lot of quizzical looks at work, as if they knew something was different but couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Only my friend was brave enough to actually something.
“You look . . . tired? Or something.”
“I don’t have any eyebrows today.”
Pause. “Oh. Wow, I never thought eyebrows would make such a difference.”
Eyebrows make a huge difference. I saw a friend once after a few years of separation, during which time he had developed alopecia. Prior to that, he had a full head of hair and normal eyebrows, but the alopecia had left him utterly glabrous. He took to wearing a hat - either to keep warm, or to hide his bald skull - but he just couldn’t hide his missing eyebrows. He was disturbing to behold.
Carrying an enormous stack of loose copier paper that started to shift, I cleverly head-butted it back upright.
Cleverly…except for the perfectly horizontal papercut I acquired, right in the middle of my forehead.