I’m not really one to dress with my bits on show. Sure, before the boys ruined everything from the neck down and gravity decided my boobs were better off being tucked into the front of my pants, I was totally ok with showing a touch of boobage. Not anymore. Nobody needs to see that.
One day, when my youngest was still my little man-sized baby, I had summoned up the energy and courage to head to Woolies to grab some groceries. As most of us do with a new baby, I looked and felt like shit. I don’t think I’d really brushed my hair and I had dried milk spew over one shoulder. I didn’t care.
I parked my car in the carpark nearest the entrance which was about 827km away. Goodie. I then had a fight with my Rubik’s Cube of a pram, kicked it a bit, cried a little, got back in my car while I gave it filthy looks then finally got it together and got it working. I put Hayden in the f#@&ing pram and finally made my way towards the shop.
I hadn’t gotten too far when a young guy walked by and smiled at me. A nice smile. Not a creepy old perve smile (although I probably would have taken that too) but a nice smile.
A few steps later and a young couple gave me a nod and another wide smile. Alright, I’m not really into the whole swinging thing but here’s a smile right back at ya.
A young tradie was hopping into his ute and stopped to give me a big grin. Well hello to you too dirty, dusty, hot, sweaty man.
What’s going on?!
I mustn’t look as bad as I thought!
As I mentally high fived myself, I got a bit of a strut happening because let’s face it, it was kinda nice to have someone send a smile and good vibes your way when you’ve been feeling like a vomit encrusted, sleep deprived troll for so long.
After several more smiles and grins, I started to think I was Ms Thang. Look at moi people, I’m apparently a bit of alright. Maybe it’s the milk boobs? Who cares, it’s nice.
As my strut turned into a ridiculous Beyonce swagger and I strolled the aisles with more smiles thrown my way, I was feeling pretty good until I got to the frozen section.
The glass doors showed my reflection.
Holy snapping duck shit.
For the love of all things decent.
Turns out, I walked that 827km through the carpark plus several shop aisles with my t-shirt pulled all the way down on one side. I had a giant mummy boob protruding from my t-shirt. Sure it was covered in my best $4 Kmart bra but still. How did I not notice? Had I given up caring so much I couldn’t even tell when I whole fun bag was on display?????
Those jerks weren’t smiling because I was pretty, they were smiling because I was giving them a freaking peep show!!!!!!!
I fixed myself up, cursed my grabby child, threw a crap tonne of chocolate in my trolley and speed shopped the rest of the trip.
I don’t go to that store anymore. It’s filled with perves.
Has anything this exciting ever happened to you in public?