When I was quite a bit younger, I worked at a Japanese restaurant that had fancy tatami rooms. Customers who sat in the rooms had to remove their shoes. We noticed that one of the pairs of shoes had toilet paper trailing from it, and it was on display where everyone in the whole restaurant could see it. When that table got up and left, EVERYONE there was watching to see what the poor woman would do. She turned red and said "let's just go right now". Some people even clapped. It was pretty bad.
At starbucks a few months ago, a woman in line in front of me had a pencil skirt on that had split up to her lower butt cheeks. You could see her ass because she was wearing a thong, which was also slightly visible. No one was saying anything and everyone was staring at her ass, especially as she bent over the counter to talk to the barista. I came up behind her and quietly said "Do you know your skirt has split really high?" She got PISSED off at me and said "Yes I know, what the hell can I do about it? I have an interview in 10 minutes" And I was like, well maybe not bend over the counter? Also there's a Macy's 2 blocks away that might have something you could throw on.
So weird. I couldn't believe how mad she got and it freaked me out.
Last nite, the guy I'm seeing had a piece of food in his teeth the whole nite. But I sat on the other side of him on the couch so it never bothered me. I just couldn't tell him! I dunno why!
YES. Last November, I walked out of a cafe in Paris with my dress tucked into my tights. It took about five blocks of walking for me to realize that people weren't looking at me funny because I was American. (Though, I guess, in a way, they were.)
It was at a wedding. I was wearing a pretty cool new dress that as part of it had a satin skirt overlaid with a layer of gauzy, see-through fabric (don't know the technical term).
I'd gotten a ton of compliments on it all evening, and after going to the restroom stopped in a big room connecting it the main dinner/dancing area with hors d'ouevres. I hung out a bit mowing down on them, then went back out to the main room and danced with my friends in a circle for a bit.
All of a sudden a girl I didn't know comes up to me and says, "Excuse me, your dress?" I rather smugly was starting to say, "Yes, thanks!" since I assumed she was another admirer of it, when she goes, "Um, yeah, but it's stuck in your underwear in back".
Yeahhhhh...I'd been flashing the room for about 15 minutes. I didn't feel the draft since it was only the solid skirt that was up in my undies (thong!), while the transparent overlay was still in place. Classy!
I've always told, ASAP, except for one incident which I do not feel guilty about in the slightest regard.
Long ago I had a summer job in an office. Everyone got along pretty well except for one woman (there always is one) who was a complete and total bitch to everyone around her. She made our lives miserable, especially mine. She was divorced and always looking for a date in the most desperate possible ways. One week she was actually decent because she was all excited about this date she had on Friday with THE GREATEST GUY IN THE WORLD. We suffered through long discourses about what she was going to wear and where they were going for dinner. On Friday she brought clothes for the date and changed when we were closing at 5. Actually, she knocked off work at 4:15 to primp because he was picking her up in the parking lot right at 5. When she breezed out the door past us, gloating over Wonderful Guy and how all us poor single girls were gonna have a lousy Friday night, she had her skirt tucked in the back of her pantyhose. Her entire ass was hanging out and she had a good-sized ass. Not one of us said one word. When she had turned the corner of the building we all just stood there and looked at each other and someone said "Karma". Not one of us laughed, to our credit.
I've had cystic acne for over 10 years, and for the last few years I've kept it pretty much in check on my face but every once in a while it rears it's ugly head and I end up with a huge grotesque cyst on my face (or sometimes many) that are impossible to cover with all the makeup in the world and don't respond to any facewash or medication other than an injection of cortisol by a dermatologist. During my last outbreak a few months ago, I had a man tell me very loudly on the subway that I should use cocoa butter on my face. EVERYONE in the subway car turned to look at my face. After a few moments of awkward silence he, again loudly, proclaimed that he wasn't making fun of me, he was serious. It was mortifying. Before both of these remarks, I had helped him figure out what stop he needed to take, as he was asking for help and everyone else was ignoring him. That's what I get for helping a stranger in need.
@Eriu: Oh honey. Oh honey! That's awful! And, as I mentioned to the paramedic who commented a little earlier, not in the least the kind of karma you deserved! Oh my. My fingers are crossed that something very good is coming your way, to make up for it. (That's the way the universe works, right?) In the meantime, I send you a nice cup of your favorite beverage and a cookie. Several cookies.
@Eriu: WTF! I have major cystic ane, too and it sucks enough when you know someone is staring at your face. Anyway, I know it's not the point, but cocoa butter is seriously comedogenic.
Does anyone else get Phantom Sweat Trail when you sit down on a hard non-porous surface? Let me explain:
It doesn't mean that any tangible moisture is escaping from between your resting buttcheeks. You haven't wet yourself or engaged in creating your own natural lubricant or any such thing.
But if you're wearing breathable fibers, has anyone else had that odd sensation of getting up from a hard nonporous chair and noticing that the space between your buttcheeks has sublimated into a subtle vapor trail on the chair?
It evaporates within seconds, and it doesn't seem to be anything gross as my pants or skirt remain perfectly dry, I do this more than I should admit. It's very difficult to describe if your butt has never done this to you. I guess I have a sweaty butt.
I've taken to doing this subtle slide when I get off a metal chair to obscure any potential trails of BUTT DEW.
@tscheese: I know it's late, but I just have to say that I KNOW EXACTLY OF WHICH YOU SPEAK!
I incorporate the probably not-so-subtle slide and also try to sit awkwardly on only one butt cheek (easier for those of us with large rumps) so hopefully it airs out before you have to get up and let EVERYONE around you see the butt dew
I had a close group of friends in law school, and when we were in third year, we were sitting around before class one morning and I told one of them (my closest friend, incidentally) that she had a big bump in her ponytail. About half of the friends were aghast that I'd say something like that, and it ended up being a long discussion about what one would or wouldn't tell people. Thankfully the one I told expressed a preference for being told of these things (in fact, she had a habit of giving friends a big grin after eating greens to make sure there wasn't anything in her teeth.)
I still don't really get what the issue was. It never occurred to me not to say something. It's not like it was a situation that needed to be handled discretely and we were all friends.
On a windy day, I was wearing a swingy sorta-circle skirt that I thought was knee-length but was apparently "hey haha let's show the entirety of Midtown Manhattan that tscheese wears chopped-up yoga pants/shorts under every skirt she owns lol."
A lady tapped me briefly on the elbow and whispered this fact. I was like "AACCK!" full-on Cathy style, no shit, this is embarrassing, and whimpered a pathetic "um thanks."
At the same time, what the fuck else could I do? Grab the excess fabric of the skirt and bunch it up somewhere? The damn thing had a mind of its own!
I don't wear that skirt in public anymore because it freaks me out too damn much.
TRUE STORY: I was a paramedic on duty during the May 3, 1999 tornado that hit our little town. I had to jump over a barbed wire fence and into a ditch to avoid the damn tornado. Afterward, I did triage in the local school gym. The Discovery Channel was there, just by total fluke, filming everything.
Later that long night, I finally noticed that my pants had been shredded by that fence, and half my ass was hanging out. I asked my male partner WTH, and he just chuckled, and said "Yeah, been meaning to point that out to you..."
On the tape, you can literally see my ass cheek in the background.
@traumamama: Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dearie me! This does not seem at ALL like the kind of karma deserved by a paramedic who does post-tornado triage!
I'm sure you have a very lovely ass cheek, and that somewhere down the line, the universe will make it up to you. (Mind you, it's been a decade. Has the universe acted yet...?)
If it can be easily corrected (skirt in hose, crumbs on face) -- you mention it.
If it CANNOT be easily corrected (run in tights, bad hair color) -- you DO NOT mention it.
I had to very quickly put this rule into action the other day at my kids' school when I realized that a teacher had her funky Mexican dress on inside out. Readers, she thanked me.
I don't know. I feel like people point out too many little things to me (and to others). It can get overbearing and annoying. Like 95% of my comments on this website though, this comment only applies to my country of residence Israel, and not to the US.
05/07/09
05/07/09
So weird. I couldn't believe how mad she got and it freaked me out.
05/07/09
05/07/09
No one said a thing, in French or English. Merde!
05/07/09
05/07/09
I'd gotten a ton of compliments on it all evening, and after going to the restroom stopped in a big room connecting it the main dinner/dancing area with hors d'ouevres. I hung out a bit mowing down on them, then went back out to the main room and danced with my friends in a circle for a bit.
All of a sudden a girl I didn't know comes up to me and says, "Excuse me, your dress?" I rather smugly was starting to say, "Yes, thanks!" since I assumed she was another admirer of it, when she goes, "Um, yeah, but it's stuck in your underwear in back".
Yeahhhhh...I'd been flashing the room for about 15 minutes. I didn't feel the draft since it was only the solid skirt that was up in my undies (thong!), while the transparent overlay was still in place. Classy!
05/07/09
Long ago I had a summer job in an office. Everyone got along pretty well except for one woman (there always is one) who was a complete and total bitch to everyone around her. She made our lives miserable, especially mine. She was divorced and always looking for a date in the most desperate possible ways. One week she was actually decent because she was all excited about this date she had on Friday with THE GREATEST GUY IN THE WORLD. We suffered through long discourses about what she was going to wear and where they were going for dinner. On Friday she brought clothes for the date and changed when we were closing at 5. Actually, she knocked off work at 4:15 to primp because he was picking her up in the parking lot right at 5. When she breezed out the door past us, gloating over Wonderful Guy and how all us poor single girls were gonna have a lousy Friday night, she had her skirt tucked in the back of her pantyhose. Her entire ass was hanging out and she had a good-sized ass. Not one of us said one word. When she had turned the corner of the building we all just stood there and looked at each other and someone said "Karma". Not one of us laughed, to our credit.
05/07/09
05/07/09
05/07/09
05/07/09
05/07/09
05/07/09
She was yelling THANK YOU to me as I got off the train!
05/07/09
It doesn't mean that any tangible moisture is escaping from between your resting buttcheeks. You haven't wet yourself or engaged in creating your own natural lubricant or any such thing.
But if you're wearing breathable fibers, has anyone else had that odd sensation of getting up from a hard nonporous chair and noticing that the space between your buttcheeks has sublimated into a subtle vapor trail on the chair?
It evaporates within seconds, and it doesn't seem to be anything gross as my pants or skirt remain perfectly dry, I do this more than I should admit. It's very difficult to describe if your butt has never done this to you. I guess I have a sweaty butt.
I've taken to doing this subtle slide when I get off a metal chair to obscure any potential trails of BUTT DEW.
05/07/09
05/07/09
05/07/09
I incorporate the probably not-so-subtle slide and also try to sit awkwardly on only one butt cheek (easier for those of us with large rumps) so hopefully it airs out before you have to get up and let EVERYONE around you see the butt dew
05/07/09
I still don't really get what the issue was. It never occurred to me not to say something. It's not like it was a situation that needed to be handled discretely and we were all friends.
05/07/09
A lady tapped me briefly on the elbow and whispered this fact. I was like "AACCK!" full-on Cathy style, no shit, this is embarrassing, and whimpered a pathetic "um thanks."
At the same time, what the fuck else could I do? Grab the excess fabric of the skirt and bunch it up somewhere? The damn thing had a mind of its own!
I don't wear that skirt in public anymore because it freaks me out too damn much.
05/07/09
Later that long night, I finally noticed that my pants had been shredded by that fence, and half my ass was hanging out. I asked my male partner WTH, and he just chuckled, and said "Yeah, been meaning to point that out to you..."
On the tape, you can literally see my ass cheek in the background.
05/07/09
I'm sure you have a very lovely ass cheek, and that somewhere down the line, the universe will make it up to you. (Mind you, it's been a decade. Has the universe acted yet...?)
05/07/09
If it can be easily corrected (skirt in hose, crumbs on face) -- you mention it.
If it CANNOT be easily corrected (run in tights, bad hair color) -- you DO NOT mention it.
I had to very quickly put this rule into action the other day at my kids' school when I realized that a teacher had her funky Mexican dress on inside out. Readers, she thanked me.
05/07/09
Carry on.
05/07/09
And complete strangers stop me on the street (I mean this quite literally) to say that I didn't look Jewish, what was I doing there?
Hand to God. I love the place, but there were times when I just wanted to slap a bitch.