A few years ago, I was going to NYC for a short seminar. I went alone and Bing stayed home and watched Liv.
So, yes...traveling all alone. I had a plane change in Chicago. I was wearing a pair of my most comfy, oldest jeans. A very, very tight wife beater. And a long man's shirt over it.
Ankle high boots with a fairly spiky heel.
As I got up to make my way out of the plane at the stopover in Chicago, I (do I have to admit this?..it just makes me look so unattractive...) bent over to retrieve my purse off the floor and felt a sudden big...
I stood up quickly and immediately felt behind me. I had somehow split my jeans right down my
No one seemed to notice as we were all rummaging around grabbing our stuff.
I knew immediately what I had to do and it wasn't going to be pretty.
And you know me, it is all about the pretty.
I hurriedly tore off my man's shirt and wrapped it around my waist. This, of course, left me looking like I thought I was hot stuff from the waist up. I mean...we are talking a TIGHT wife beater.
Ok...this is hard. It was Liv's sleeveless tee shirt. (I can't call it a wife beater when my daughter is wearing it.) She was like...8 at the time. And it looked really, really good when worn UNDER the man's shirt. But worn alone?
It looked like a little girl's undershirt worn by a grown woman who should truly know better.
I walked awkwardly off the plane and let me tell you...it was hard for me to even walk because I was terrified that my pants were going to fall down next. I mean..the ENTIRE BUTT was ripped out.
So, there I am mincing like a lumberjack in high heels. In a way too tight wife beater. A CHILD'S size.
As I careened into the airport, scanning crazily for a bathroom, I noticed all the looks that I was getting. Men were in danger of getting whiplash. Because I looked (and walked) like a very drunk lady of the evening. Women were giving me disgusted looks right and left. Because...well...YOU know why. I looked like I thought I was hot shit and I wasn't even walking properly, I was walking in these baby girl steps like I had either just joined the mile high club and been ridden hard or else I looked like a very slutty looking woman who just might be on the verge of an epileptic seizure.
I know I was wild eyed. I was intensely uncomfortable and wished badly for a fairy godmother to come and whisk me away to a nice changing room with some great looking jeans.
I found a bathroom and lurched into it. I practically fell into a stall and then felt around me to grope myself and see what the damage was.
Oh, this was so very bad.
I took a deep breath and walked out of the stall. I had exactly a half hour to make my next flight. I summoned my brave inner self and looked at the damage in the mirror. Several women who had given me the stink eye when I walked in now gasped in horror.
Three of them surrounded me protectively while the rest made a run for the door. My three brave new found savioresses began giving me suggestions. One asked if I had any baggage at all with me.
I shook my head. Rolled my eyes. If I had a bag, do they really think I wouldn't be searching for ANYTHING to wear right now?
One woman asked if I had checked any of the gift shops for clothing.
Another woman shot her down. No, she told her. All I would find would be long tee shirts...but that might be my best bet. A really long LOOSE tee shirt or sweatshirt to cover my ass. She offered to take money from me to go buy one for me.
I was desperate enough to take her up on it. I glanced at myself in the mirror and felt my face get even hotter. My nipples were standing out erect and proud on my chest in my little girl tee shirt. I looked like Britney Spears when she was feeling really, really slutty and c'mon, you know what she wears on a plain jane day.
Another women sighed and then said quickly, "Ok. You and I are about the same size. I have my overnight bag. I have an extra pair of jeans in there, but honestly, they are MY MOST COMFY PAIR and I love them...but I can't stand how sick at heart you look...so..."
She began rifling through her bag and came out with a pair of really great looking jeans and handed them to me. I thanked her profusely and took down her name and address, promising to wash them when I got home again and then mail them back to her. She gave me a long look.
"Please don't be bullshitting me," she said. "Because, lady...I really love those jeans and they are worn in perfectly."
I gratefully took the jeans and went into a stall and spent the next five minutes trying to get my torn jeans off and the new ones on. This involved taking off my shoes and shimmying around in a tiny stall that was not meant to be a changing room, Once, I came perilously close to falling into the toilet.
But the jeans fit well. Not perfectly, her butt was a tad bigger than mine and her legs were smaller. Plus, she was about four inches taller, so they drug on the ground.
But, they fit.
I walked out and the three women who had come to my rescue sighed along with me in relief. I actually hugged the jean lender and I am so not a hugger. I don't think she was either because it was a very stiff hug from both of us. But, I was so, so grateful. Two women knelt on either side of me and rolled up the jeans so that I would not break my neck when I tried to walk in my ankle boots.
We all went on our way then, me running through the terminal in jeans that were just a bit too long and snug in the legs and big in the butt. But, hey..I wouldn't be busting through them that way, right? And at last, my tiny wife beater was covered by the big shirt again.
I made my flight with four minutes to spare.
And yes, I did wash the jeans and mailed them back to the wonderful lending woman. I also sent a gift certificate to Borders Books because I had noticed that she had a book in her hands and figured she would be a reader.
And I included my phone number and address and a promise that if she EVER needed a favor if she was ever on the prairie, I was her girl. She never called, but I like to think that she used the gift certificate.
I also made a vow that if anything remotely like this happened to ANY woman and I was able to help, I would.
I haven't had the chance to do my karma yet, but I am sure it will come up.
So..if you are ever in an airport and you bust out the ass of your jeans and you see an older looking woman in the bathroom with Harry Potter glasses or cat eye glasses or John Lennon glasses (I own several pairs)...I will do whatever it takes to assist you.
Because that is what we women are best at. Fixing things. And coming to each other's rescue.
Right? Have you ever been helped by a female stranger? I bet you have....