Okay, so. Last week Miss A called and asked me to walk her on the field (along with her Dad) for Senior Night. OF COURSE I said “Yes”. Tuesday morning I packed my suitcase and drove up to north Mississippi.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted to wear so I packed a dress and a pantsuit. When I got to the hotel, I showered and tried on each outfit, took selfies, and sent them to Miss A, TWH, and T to ask their opinions. Miss A didn’t answer, TWH just texted me back telling me I was HAWT, and T picked the dress. I then realized I had no shorts to wear under the dress (chub rub yo) and I thought I looked thinner in the pantsuit so the pantsuit won out. What?? I have my vanity…
Anyway, I got dressed and headed up to the High School where I met Miss A. I went into the guard room to help Miss A get ready. She totally had her shit together so I just pitched in where I could. At one point Miss A comes up to me and whispers “Zip your pants woman”. Oh Jeebus…. I’ve been walking around with my fly undone. Shirttail’s out, no biggie. It was (mostly) covered. That’s what I’m telling myself, at least.
Senior Night goes off with only a very small hitch (the announcer calls me by my ex-husbands last name thus causing his current wife to be all sorts of bitchy. I laughed my ass off), Miss A & I meet back up and go for dinner.
THAT’S when I noticed I’d been walking around with my shirt buttoned one-off all freaking night.
I then texted my ECB and told her “Alright… I get to the band room and Miss A has to tell me to zip my pants. I realized at dinnerthat I’d missed a buttonhole on my shirt. I can’t decide if I’m the worst representative of folks my age or the best one ever…”. She texted me back and told me I was the best ever.
My nagging question is: If I can do that fucked up a job dressing myself stone-cold sober, what kind of hot mess would I be if I tried to dress myself when I’d been drinking??
Maybe I’ll find out in Mexico…