This morning I get up and put on my nice Sag Harbor beige linen dress (with a slit up the back) that I’d ironed the night before, and my heels and I’m thinking that I’m looking nice. I get to work as usual, park in the garage on the third floor, take the clear elevator down to the street, and walk up L. Street, around the corner to T. Street and down T. Street, half the block to the building in which I work. I’m thinking, as I’m walking around the corner, ‘my this feels rather breezy’, so when I get into the building, I reach around to make sure the hem of my dress isn’t tucked inside my panties, or whatever.
I discover that the modest slit is now up to my ASS (literally), and my simple cotton panties were being exposed to all of downtown. So, I quickly reverse my course, sneak back up to my car and go home to change my dress, praying the whole time I don’t see anyone who knows me, or worse yet, knows my boss and will call her saying, “I’m pretty sure I saw one of your employees exposing herself in downtown on Wednesday morning.”
Apparently, when I had gotten in the car this morning to go to work, the slit (which was once nicely modest) had ripped and grown exceedly open. (And, since it was lined, I hadn’t put on a slip–the lining which was sewn to the dress had also ripped.)
All I can say is I’m glad it wasn’t a Thong Day.