Friday, April 6, 2007

Boy Was My Face Red!

I have a new blog assignment for my sisters that I am sure they will love. What was you most embarrassing moment ever? Now, be detailed.

I was fifteen in 1992. Nirvana was everything that was awesome, and my friends and I wore mostly layers of flannel. I dated a boy named Andy for a month or two, and he took me too his brother's wedding. I borrowed a one-piece, black, polka-dot dress skorts outfit from my preppy, older sister (she'd worn it to some dance).
Everything was going fine at the wedding, until I needed to pee. Being that my dress was actually shorts, I was going to have to pull them down to do that task. Being that it was all one piece with a zipper, (and no shoulders by the way, so no bra- ah to be 15) I had to take it off almost completely. So, I had put the task off for as long as physically possible.
Now, I am in a bathroom stall (probably doing a potty-dance) trying to unzip this damn dress. I can't remember if the zip was on the side or the back, I do know it was hard to get to.

The zipper gets stuck.

It won't go in either direction, and being my sisters outfit, it is more fitted than clothes I ever wear, so I can't just pull it off zipped.


Now here I am, my 15 year-old, shy self, at a wedding full of people I don't know. I really have to go with my policy (according to Meander) "It hurts to ask." There was NO WAY I was going to leave that stall and get someone to unzip me.

But I HAVE TO PEE!!!!!!!!!!

I do the only thing that I can think of. I yank that zipper for all it was worth (pulling it off the outfit) and finding sweet blissful relief. AHHHHHHHHHHH!

Only now I have a problem. I will not wet myself, but I have completely ruined the dress. If I leave the stall. the dress will gape open and everyone will see my panties, and more importantly, the fact that I am not wearing a bra!! I will NOT leave this stall! Never mind that I have already been in here longer than my task required. Never mind that my boyfriend is out there waiting, missing his brother's entire wedding reception.

I sat there for a little while, sans outfit, trying to put the metal part of zipper back on. It was a little like Peter Pan trying to stick his shadow on with soap. Until...

My boyfriend's 60+ year-old great-aunt comes in.
"Is there a girl named Liza in here?"
I respond and go into the whole thing about the skorts and the zipper, and how I am sitting there trying to fix it. She goes and gets Andy's tux jacket and I stand in the bathroom in nylons and a rented jacket while 25 ladies I DON'T KNOW try and fix my dress.

No luck.

Now Andy has a cousin that is leaving. We switch clothes, and I am allowed to stay the rest of the night in her clothes, while she goes home in my broken dress with a tux jacket over it.

Problem solved right?

Not quite so. You see her skirt and top combo fits me, but it fits me tighter than anything I've ever worn in my life. Not trashy-tight, but tighter than a self-conscious girl (who always wears baggy layers) would ever want her outfit to fit. 90210 tight.
So I hang out at my table, trying to keep a low profile. Staying away from all 25 ladies who saw me in nothing but a tux jacket, and absolutely everyone else at this 400 person wedding that knows I am wearing someone else's clothes, and knows why.

But that was not to be.

All of Andy's brothers and brothers-in-law, the groomsmen, and anyone else up for the job decide to get back at Andy for being a good boyfriend and staying with me. How is that?
They surround our table, cutting off all means of escape. They're even ON the table and belt out "You've Lost That Loving Feeling" (Top Gun wannabes) while everybody at the reception surrounds them and laughs and the photographer takes a billion pictures.

I about cried. It was way too much for a teenager to deal with. I broke up with the boy not very long after that.

And don't forget, I still had to go home and explain to my mom why I was in different clothes, and to Meander why I broke her dress. I still don't think she's over it.

And you thought it was going to be just another "I wet my pants" story didn't you.


La Sirena said...

That story is a perfect example of why it NEVER hurts to ask.

Think how much more mellow your night would have been, if only one of those old ladies helped you with your zipper.

I have no embarassing moments -- certainly not any I want to blog about.

Woodlandmama said...


Yes, I can look back from the safety of 15 years in the future and say "I should have asked for help." It is a lesson I've learned, along with "If it won't go, don't force it," both lessons were learned that night.

Maybe it's wisdom that you can pass on to my nephew, who is almost both the age I was in the story, and the age I was when he was born.