Overexposed: My Supermarket Nightmare

 

You know those dreams where you find yourself standing naked in the middle of your office hallway, your co-workers pointing in fascination at your bits as they giggle and smirk?  Then you wake up and thank the powers that be that it was, mercifully, all a dream? 

Well, imagine that, except without the waking up part.

I had been at Mum’s, and as per local custom, had been consuming generous amounts of shiraz, when Tom came to pick me up.  It was late and he had been working so I assumed we were home-ward bound, but when I opened my eyes (just napping!), we were at some random Safeway. 

‘I’ve got to check the bins,’ Tom informed me, ‘so can you pop in and grab some papers for Jenny?’ 

I hadn’t planned on alighting for anything other than bed, but didn’t want to get roped into playing dumpster dive accomplice, so reluctantly agreed.  Tom drove off to locate the free pig food, and in I went.

I knew something was up as soon as I entered the searing lights of the supermarket.  People were glaring at me with increasingly shocked expressions.  I checked my face for food, my hair, my teeth, anxiety simmering as the answer failed to present itself.  It was only when a leathery old man actually stopped to stare, uninhibited, at my ass that I identified the problem.

I WASN’T WEARING PANTS. 

A flush of white hot heat pulsed through my body and I felt my heart actually stop.  For a second, panic stalled my thinking and I stood in horrified paralysis, the entire world of Safeway staring in amusement.  Then my last shred of rationality managed to find its tiny voice; ‘Just make it look like you didn’t wear pants on purpose,’ it advised, ‘Lady Gaga style.’ 

And so I reached inside myself and, after pulling my loose top over my exposed butt, found the strength to march on.  Taking deep breaths to try to flush the red from my face, I whispered my new mantra over and over; I’m a rock star.  This is just how I dress!  Besides, if I held my top down with my free hand, it could almost, maybe, pass for a dress.  Sort of.

Reaching the counter, I leant back on it and craned my neck around to order, trying to make the manoeuvre look casual.  By the concerned look on the cashier’s face, I’m not sure I succeeded.  But no matter.  I had the papers!  I walked slash hopped out of there as quick as was possible while maintaining the Gaga ruse, then ran through the mercifully dark car park to find Tom.

‘YOU BASTARD!’  I screamed at the dumpster.  ‘What sort of sick joke do you think this is?  Why didn’t you tell me I WASN’T WEARING ANY PANTS?’ 

Tom popped his head out from the bin and began trying desperately to stifle errant giggles.  ‘Jesus, Katie!’  He said, jumping over the edge with a packet of pink donuts in hand.  ‘I didn’t know!’

‘But you watched me walk away!’  I was yelling through the open car door now, having spied a potential spectator hanging around the top of the ramp.

Tom jumped in the car and grabbed me for a hug.  A single guffaw escaped his lips and with that, he lost his battle with the giggles.  ‘I’m sorry!’  He breathed through uncontrollable laughter.  ‘Maybe you shouldn’t have had so much wine at your parents.’

I glared at him.

‘Ok, no, I didn’t mean that.’  He paused.  ‘Hey, at least you’ll get a good blog out of it!’