We've all seen at least one viral picture of a woman in public with her dress stuck in her underwear, completely unaware she is being photographed. The online sharing and snickers will continue for hours on social media until the cute seven-year-old is caught on video wiping his booger on a stranger's jacket while the stranger stares at a van Gogh in the Met (true story by the way). I have seen these pictures thinking, "If this ever happens to me, I will be mortified!"
Today, I was that woman. My dress wasn't actually stuck in my underwear; the right side was tucked under my backpack for the full seven minutes it took me to walk from the parking deck to my office. I only noticed six minutes into the commute when a young guy passed me in a hurry, and I felt a slight breeze on the back of my right leg. I reached back, felt skin and whispered, "Shiiiiiiitttttttt" to myself. I pulled my dress down and continued to walk like it didn't even happen.
I am sharing this story because I realized something about myself, something important. I did not care. I'm not just saying I didn't care; I honestly did not care. I did not die. I did not hyperventilate. I don't think I even blushed (anywhere). I only continued to walk to work like it didn't even happen. I did not care that at least fifteen strangers saw more of me than I would have liked (though I am glad I have been training for a half marathon) but it was just a thing. One more thing in a whole string of things that happen to us while we breathe.
Now having said all of that, I will say that Girl Code was broken because there were two women behind me the entire trek down the sidewalk and they said NOTHING to me or assisted in helping me out. I would never let a woman, or man, go through that! I will let that go this time because I am in a cool place with me right now.
