Posted by on Mar 22, 2012 in embarrassing story, embarrassing work story | 0 comments

I have a dress that I love. It’s sort of a muted teal color with light material and wide sleeves. Perfect for Phoenix in the spring.

But the material is such that if it comes into contact with any sort of liquid, the fabric is left with a prominent spot or streak. Every time I wash my hands, a few drops of water splash across the front, leaving large, discolored blobs in their wake. If I rub moisturizer into my hands and then a finger skims a sleeve, we’ve got a streak.

Every time I wear this dress, I tiptoe around all day, trying not to bump into anyone or drop anything or breathe.

Last night after an exhausting day of trying to keep the dress presentable, I was heading out of work to meet a friend for happy hour. On my way out, I decided to throw my hair up in a clip, so I stopped in the building’s main restroom. I twisted my hair up, clipped it and sprayed one side with a miniature bottle of hairspray I keep in my bag.

I realized what I’d done the moment I pressed the nozzle, but it was too late. Thousands of mini droplets – and three or four big ones – made a beeline for that dress, turning the top half into a spotted nightmare.

But I’d only sprayed half of my hair. My hair is very fine and does not hold a style, ever, without hairspray. There was no way around it: I had to spray again.

Clearly, the solution was to spray the other side quickly and jump out of the way of the falling mist. But I still needed to attempt to protect the dress with something just in case those droplets beat me to the punch.

So that’s how it came to be that a co-worker walked into that restroom at 5 p.m. to find my neck and shoulders wrapped in paper towels as I sprayed my hair and danced across the room.

Mama’s Losin’ It(Taking part in Mama Kat’s Weekly Writers Workshop in which I “describe an outfit I loved wearing.”)