First, a little back story:
I live in Saratoga Springs, home of the most historic horse race track in the country.
Every year Corey's family comes into town for a weekend at the races.
I enjoy wearing dresses when it's hot.
Sunday afternoon I find myself at the track in my favorite summer dress. It's a blue bouncy number that is worn loosely from my mid-section down to allow for maximum air-flow. Thank you Calvin Klein.
(and thank you TJ Maxx for not carrying my size, forcing me to buy the dress two very roomy sizes too big)
After placing my bets at the window I make my way back to our section of seats. In an effort to not un-seat an entire row of race watchers, like the classy gal that I am, I decided to climb into my seat from the empty row above.
As you may know, this involves more straddling than is allowed for a lady. I'll tell you what, you can take the girl out of the Midwest but you can't take the Midwest out of the girl. Just kidding. Hoosiers aren't heathens. But I digress.
So here I go hopping row to row and wouldn't you know it, I stepped right on the bottom of my dress.
Yep. I planted my foot on my chair and the hem of my dress.
Naturally, my next step would be to take foot from chair (and dress) and place firmly on ground.
So that's what I did. But when that danged dress got free it sprung from my foot past it's rightful place near my knee, past the danger zone of my butt, and ended somewhere near the middle of my back before falling back home.
This left my entire backside unobstructed for all to see.
My bum was on display at the racetrack and I'm afraid there were more than a couple hundred people who witnessed it; one of the more emBARErassing moments of my adult life.
Butt in other news, the next day I was over it and I brought some wool with me to knock out a couple gold stretchy bracelets.
Although, I think my cheeks might still be a little red in this picture.
That's the end. I promise.