Today I drove to work with incredible chest pains. I couldn't even breathe properly!
But it had nothing to do with stress. Instead, it had everything to do with the fact that my full-length slip had wound itself tightly around my bosom! And I didn't have time to fix it before I got in the car!
You see, I had decided to dress up more than usual for school today, and this was because I knew I would be with parents all day long, being the general education representative that legally needs to be present at all of our IEP meetings.
And so, as I dashed around my apartment this morning, trying to find my extra special pair of heels and trying to shimmy both my slip and my dress down over my head simultaneously, I had gotten myself STUCK.
I began to overheat as I realized that I could neither free myself from the dress nor get myself the rest of the way into it. The rolled-up slip and dress had diabolically wound themselves together and had tightened their grip over my chest and arms, leaving me in the position of reaching for the sky while being unable to see, since the black dress was also covering 75% of my head and 100% of my eyes.
I could only take short, shallow breaths, and so this I did rapidly, as I began to think about who I could call for help. Should I reach for the phone, explain my entrapment to the school secretary, and then dial my mother? But I would opt for neither.
With a great squeal of effort, I pushed my arms even further up and out, then exhaled as much as possible and wiggled myself like a caterpiller (dancing around my apartment in pain) as I managed to at least successfully unroll the dress down my body. But this gave me only partial relief.
The slip, of course, remained wadded up in my upper rib cage region, enhancing my mammory glands but unfortunately with uneven lumps (which also inconveniently showed themselves on my back).
And, try as I might, the damn thing was not going to slide itself down, and I didn't have another second to devote to this absurd endeavor.
So I threw on a cartigan to cover my unzipped dress-back, glancing in the mirror just long enough to realize I looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. I covered my weirdness with a thick coat, promising to have another go at it once I made it to the ladies' restroom.
On the drive there, I had all kinds of weird thoughts. God forbid, if I were to get in an accident, what would the EMTs say about my undergarments being all jumbled up at my breast?
And then I recalled the horrific moment when I was at the beach with Karen back in 1997. We had ducked into a hippy clothing store on the boardwalk, and I had slipped over my head a handsewn halter that was much too small for me. Indeed, I had gotten myself completely stuck, and it took much yelling and screaming to have Karen hear me and come running. She then had to crawl under the dressing room door and help hoist the thing off of me. It was so scary! Who, then, at school could I trust with this embarrassing plea for help? Certainly not my student teacher!
Forunately, I had success myself when I got to school. The slip came down and my emotions went back up! :-)
