When I was younger, right out of high school, I worked very closely with the police department in the town I had moved to. I also spent a lot of time off duty with those same police officers. Okay, I had a thing for cops. Cops were my friends and I dated only cops and the ones that were married, I was friends with their wives. Let’s just say that just about wherever I was you could guarantee there’d be a police officer in some form or fashion close enough to throw a rock and hit.
I lived next door to a police officer and his wife. I lived in one side of the duplex and they lived in the other. I lived across the street from another police officer. I lived about a block away from yet another police officer and his wife. At the time I had a stalker (before stalkers were cool). This was in the time of pre cell phone or really even cordless phones so everything was corded and attached and you could only go so far from the phone. This was also pre caller ID or *69 so you couldn’t even call back to find out who it was calling you. When my lovely stalker would do his calling and breathing on the phone deal or calling and telling me what he was going to do I couldn’t call back or look at caller ID and I couldn’t even hang up and call anyone because it wouldn’t disconnect until HE hung up! I could hang up and pick up the phone 4 minutes later and he’d still be there! It was weird. I’d bang on the wall that connected me to the police officer next door and he’d run over and get on the phone and pretend to be my husband and tell the guy to quit calling me.
That really has nothing to do with the story other than the fact that it shows just how much I was around cops. If there was a party (with the cops) I was there. One New Years Eve the cops decided to rent out a nearby hall and have a dance (read drunken party). This was pretty convenient because most of them were pretty drunk by the time the evening was over so they’d just call dispatch when someone was ready to go home and dispatch would send a unit over to take them home.
This particular party I remember I was wearing a black jersey wrap around skirt. This particular skirt had material that was kind of thick so I didn’t wear a slip under it because it interfered with the way the skirt hung. We were all laughing and dancing and having a great (read drunken) time. I was dancing with one of the ranking officers at the urging of some of the younger officers when I felt a cool “breeze” and suddenly I’m tripping over my own feet! WTH??? I look down and to my horror my skirt is in a pile around my ankles… Apparently one of the younger officers thought it would be very funny to see what would happen if he grabbed the tie to my skirt as he was walking by on the dance floor… and just keep walking.
Guess I should have thought to tie the “belt” part in a KNOT since those policemen were famous for their pranks and jokes. Definitely a wardrobe malfunction. Good thing I listen to my mom and was wearing clean undies in case of an accident. Although that was more of an “accidently on purpose”.
Another malfunction was not so much my wardrobe as it was me. When #2 was very young (maybe a couple months old) we had won a trip to the beach with the company that Hubby was working for. It was an adult only trip so we had left #1 and #2 with my sister. It was the first time we had been away from #2 overnight since she’d been born. It was a 3 or 4 day trip and I was still nursing #2. We were supposed to go to a cocktail party and then to dinner.
I had bought a really pretty silk blouse and skirt to wear to the cocktail party and dinner. The bad part was that I had given no forethought to the fact that since I was still nursing I was using nursing pads in my bra. I don’t know if any of you have ever had any experience with using nursing pads but back then they were quite bulky and needless to say quite visible under a slinky silk blouse. So, bright woman that I am (hahahahahaha), I decided it would behoove me not to use the nursing pads for the evening. Add to that fact that when you are nursing your bra is quite a bit more filled out anyway. I had brought a breast pump to make sure my milk didn’t dry up while we were gone so to make sure I didn’t get engorged during dinner I had pumped right before I got dressed for the party. I thought surely I’d be safe for cocktails and dinner. Guess that’s what I get for thinking.
I had gotten dressed with the pads and realized it was not going to work so I took them out and we went next door to the party. Thank God it was just next door. A lot of these people I only saw once or twice a year and most of them knew I had just had a baby so there was lots of baby talk. For those of you unaware of the dynamics of breast feeding let’s just say that nursing plus being away from your baby plus talking a LOT about being away from said baby is a recipe for disaster. I’m standing there talking to one of the other wives and drinking a glass of wine (which I also hadn’t gotten to do in forever) and when I reached across to shake someone’s hand who had walked up I noticed the inside of my forearm felt warm and wet and sticky. WTH?? I look down and to my utter horror the entire front of my beautiful silk blouse was dripping wet….down to my waistline. I was SO embarrassed!!! I guess all that baby talk made my milk “let down” and boy did it!
Thankfully most of the people standing near me were other moms so I tried as best as I could to cross my arms to cover “the damage” and had one of the wives go get hubby so he could bring me the key to get back in our unit and change clothes. Good thing I only had to walk next door or I fear any kitties in the area would have been following me!
This post was brought to you via Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop and prompt #3.) A wardrobe malfunction.