Inappropriate Undershirts

We’re having a heat wave! But not on the streets of New York, where 44 degrees admittedly feels like a spring afternoon despite the fact that it's the dead of winter! Oh no, it's in my office, where bodies, computers and fluorescent lighting are mingling with a defunct heating system and producing a sauna effect. However, we are not walking around clad in plush towels in a David Barton gym, more’s the pity. We are dressed for the subarctic cold in preparation for the normal Monday morning cold-after-the-weekend office. What is one to do?

This morning when I woke at 6 am, the wind screaming through the skeletal trees and the sky hazy with the suggestion of snow, I wrongly chose the heaviest of my wool sweaters and pulled it over a thin, ratty, brick colored long sleeve t-shirt, my thinking being that nobody was going to see what I was wearing underneath anyway. After ten minutes at my desk with menopause-like hot flashes and beads of sweat beginning to form around my hairline like a cold drink left in the hot sun (so unattractive), I ripped my sweater off, revealing my ugly shirt complete with shelf-like padded bra embarrassingly protruding and perfect “flabs” a-flaunting. One positive note: The "Serial Tid-Bitter" from my office (see blog post Bit Fest) is steering clear of my desk.

It reminds me of another time I wore inappropriate underclothes when flying to San Francisco a few years ago on Virgin America. A fearful flyer, I have long since dressed as comfortably as possible in preparation for the drug-induced coma that allows me to fly without screaming “We’re all gonna die!” So, on the day in question, I donned some sweats, a white tank top (sans brassiere) and a zip up sweatshirt to hide the fact that I was freestylin’. Of course that day I got called off the line and was told to remove my sweatshirt and stand with my hands out (so could not cover up), allowing my fellow passengers and the disgruntled security guard to see my (meager) goods.

Much like wearing grandma undies or not shaving can turn an otherwise singleton night into meeting the man or woman of your dreams (to your complete distress), wearing a crappy undershirt will summons the powers that be and create a situation calling for an unfortunate unveiling. Let this be a lesson…always wear underclothes that can stand on their own if you are suddenly asked to prove you are not a terrorist, have a shitty office heater that threatens to suffocate you, or experience menopausal flashes, panic attacks, or an unexpected love fest.