Wardrobe malfunction
So I wore a skirt today, a little pleated grey kilt I've had for a couple of years but never wear. Really not the skirt type. Now I remember why.
They grab the downtown Toronto winds, convulse, and you end up grappling with them like you're having some kind of wind-induced seizure until you end up mincing along with it tucked between your thighs trying to look normal. Also there's heavy construction all along College st. which I had to walk down to get from work to class this morning, and I don't want to reinforce negative occupation-related stereotypes, but I NEVER NEVER want to walk that walk in this skirt ever again. So much so that I minced right to the campus store next to my class to buy a hugely overpriced pair of track pants to wear back.
Walking back (amongst the sniggering construction workers who had noted the outfit switch) I caught a glimpse of myself in a storefront window to make sure all was go with the new pants and noticed that
a) my several-years-old white T-shirt was see-through in the sunlight, and
b) my bra was not so much supporting my boobs as it was quietly consoling them.
I should probably go home via personally manned hot-air balloon. I just can't be seen any more in public until I get my act together.
They grab the downtown Toronto winds, convulse, and you end up grappling with them like you're having some kind of wind-induced seizure until you end up mincing along with it tucked between your thighs trying to look normal. Also there's heavy construction all along College st. which I had to walk down to get from work to class this morning, and I don't want to reinforce negative occupation-related stereotypes, but I NEVER NEVER want to walk that walk in this skirt ever again. So much so that I minced right to the campus store next to my class to buy a hugely overpriced pair of track pants to wear back.
Walking back (amongst the sniggering construction workers who had noted the outfit switch) I caught a glimpse of myself in a storefront window to make sure all was go with the new pants and noticed that
a) my several-years-old white T-shirt was see-through in the sunlight, and
b) my bra was not so much supporting my boobs as it was quietly consoling them.
I should probably go home via personally manned hot-air balloon. I just can't be seen any more in public until I get my act together.