Recently while out to dinner with friends, I had one of the most bizarre experiences I’ve ever had that couldn’t have had “blog” written on it any louder.  The struggle, however, was how to blog about something without offending the person that made it so blog worthy.  That damn nice side of me gets in the way sometimes.  Well, I can no longer contain myself, if you can’t laugh at yourself then you must laugh at others, right?  I’m pretty sure that’s the saying, at least in my world it is.  I’ll justify telling this story by thinking it’s my civic duty to bring laughter to the world.

So let me set the scene for you.  It was a beautiful summer evening and I was out to dinner with a bunch of women at a very nice Inn in a small vacation town in Maine.  There was a large table set up for us in the center of the dining room with families enjoying their dinners all around us.  While having drinks and waiting for our fish tacos and flatbreads to arrive, all of a sudden one of the women pulls a pair of underwear out of her bag.  Not just any pair of underwear mind you, but stick on underwear.  Yes, I said stick on underwear.  Not only was I completely baffled by the “stick on” aspect of the underwear but was flummoxed (love that word) as to why they were being passed around the table.  Had someone soiled themselves and asked if anyone had a spare pair?  Had this woman forgotten to put them on before leaving the house?

The situation made a little more sense upon finding out that this woman sells these undergarments and was showing her product to the group.  Not sure I agree that this was the right time and place, however, but to each his own.  I chose to leave my trench coat with Rolexes hanging inside at home. Let’s back up a minute though, stick on underwear????   What might I possibly wear that would require my underwear to stick on as opposed to having side straps?  I have a feeling if I ever were coordinated enough to get that band-aid stuck on in the right place, that thing would go missing until my next gynecological exam.  “Stephanie, I found your underwear”, “Oh thanks, I’ve been looking for that”.  Not to mention the home waxing that would take place upon removing such stuck on garment.  Ouch.  Maybe that’s a better marketing strategy for the product, wax while you work!

When I thought I had just about seen it all and was about to take a sip of my cucumber vodka and tonic, a silicone breast was placed in my hand.  Usually I have to buy someone a drink before that happens.  I jest, but in all seriousness, I did have a breast stick on cup bra kind of thing in my hand in the middle of a restaurant while about to sip my yuppie drink.  Ok, really?!?  Regardless of the fact that hurricane like damage would be caused if that little stick on thing were ever to let go after defying physics and holding these girls up, why am I holding a boob cup in a restaurant?  I’ve got underwear stuck on my head and now I have a boob in my hand. Sometimes you just can’t make this stuff up.