We all like to think we look fabulous, don’t we? This week I didn’t necessarily feel fabulous, but I thought I was dressed neatly – at the minimum. Walking down the hall at work, two ladies behind me said, “Ummm, we hate to tell you this… but you have something on your butt.” Now, it didn’t end with a quick brush of the pants to remove an offending piece of lint or dirt. Their eyes got squintier as they zoomed in for a closer look.
Between the two of them, they considered out loud exactly what could “be on my butt.” Rust? Paint? And then it hit me. Last week my kids all had strep throat. I went through the house with a bottle of water and bleach, disinfecting everything in sight. I must have sprayed the kitchen chair by accident and plopped right down onto it.
So picture this. Me walking down the hall at work in black pants. BUT… I had sat down in watery bleach, so there was a perfect flattened “butt mark” of bleached fabric on my rear, which had changed color to a lovely rust.
It didn’t help that when you sit, your rear end spreads out… this made the “butt print” even better. So please, don’t look at my butt.
