However, I soon realized the problem was not actually due to the length of the hem but because my dress had, unbeknownst to me, ripped all the way up the back, exposing my hot pink underwear. Thankfully, I was wearing nylons (which would explain why I didn't notice a draft), but still, how trashy? I was appalled. Soon enough, my boss was squatting beneath me to fasten my dress together with safety pins.
I'm going to blame this one on my ghetto booty.
Similarly, about a year ago I was walking through Harvard Square without a care in the world when I unintentionally walked over the grate above the subway. At the precise moment I stepped on the grate, a train was passing underneath, which caused a large gust of wind to blow upward which consequently caused my dress to fly up over my head. I quickly pulled it back down, hoping that no one saw my secret parts until a homeless man started shouting at me, "I saw that! I saw what you did!" Um excuse me, sir? Can you please shut the fuck up? I'm trying to be discrete here. "You're not going to do that again, are you, huh? You're not going to do that again," he said. He was correct. A lesson well-learned. But also what a dick, right?
This same man asks me for money every day. He seems to forget that he totally BLEW UP MY SPOT, and that I will never forgive him. Not to mention the fact that I would never give him money anyway because I'm poor and need it for myself. And also, I'm an asshole.