But across the chest (and - I cannot stress this part strongly enough - when I say "across the chest," I mean at least six inches above the top of my boobs) there was a horizontal slit, with grommets evenly spaced above and below the slit, and then there were safety pins (regular, small safety pins) through the grommets, holding the slit closed. My masterful use of Paint Shop will give you an idea of what I mean:
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Tova's Totally Awkward Tuesday
Ugh, sorry it's been a while, folks! I have this random cold/sinus thing going on, yet again, so I'm every bit as sexy right now as you might imagine. Woo hoo! I have an appointment with my doctor on Wednesday, so wish me luck!
Anyway... I couldn't let a week go by and just leave you guys hanging for Totally Awkward Tuesday! That would be cruel! Also, when I'm solidly back among the land of the living, I really need to catch up on all of your blogs.
This week's TAT is about a shirt. Again. Apparently, a large part of being awkward is owning awkward clothing. (Ask Snarky Much and her Thai fisherman pants if you don't believe me.)
Back in high school, I dated a guy who will from now on be referred to as "the good ex:" we dated for two years, he's a genuinely nice guy, he never stalked or harassed me after we broke up, and we still stay in touch periodically.
I also had a shirt in high school. (Well, ok, a lot more than one shirt, but today I will single out just one particular shirt.) I got the shirt on sale somewhere, and at the time, I thought it was kind of cool. It was a white sleeveless shirt, similar in cut to this one:
(Admit it, you're jealous of the artistic talent I displayed there.) The shirt showed a centimeter of skin on my upper chest/neck at most, and keep in mind that I have small boobs, so there was no cleavage visible. So, I'd worn the shirt half a dozen times or so, and no one (including my very conservative parents) had ever expressed any objection to it. Until, of course, I wore it to my ex-boyfriend's house.
Here's the scene: I walk in the door with the good ex, and his mom is sitting at the dining room table, talking to her sister (the mother of one of my classmates) on the phone. The second I come through the door, the good ex's mom screams, "Ohmygosh!! Tova, what are you wearing???" Before I could even come up with the right answer (clothes?), she yells into the phone, "You would not believe what Tova is wearing right now! She is wearing a shirt with a huge hole directly across her boobs, and there are pins in it!"
After looking down at my shirt to make sure that it hadn't somehow morphed into the scandalous shirt that she was describing, the good ex and I escaped to the basement. The good ex went upstairs for a few minutes to get something, and his mom took that opportunity to come down and have a "serious discussion" with me about my shirt. After informing me that I apparently didn't realize what "wearing revealing clothing can do to men," she delivered the final, awkward blow by saying, "As soon as I saw that shirt, the first thing I thought of was kinky sex."
Ummm.... I can't speak for the rest of you, but I've never had sex that involved safety pins, and at the time she said this to me, I had never had sex of any kind at all. I sat there, in intense mortification, and refused to acknowledge that she was speaking or even in the same room. It was horrifying. I did, however, wear the shirt more times after that - never around her - (until I spilled something on it and stained it), and received several compliments on it. For the remainder of its life, the shirt was referred to as "the kinky sex shirt." Interestingly enough, the good ex's mom continued to want her son to marry me until well after we'd broken up. Go figure.
Go write your own Totally Awkward story, then read everyone else's. But if you've ever had kinky sex that involved safety pins, I'm not sure I want to know about it.