Hi everybody, it’s motherbumper holding down the fort for Her Bad Mother today.

Since rifling through HBM’s bathroom cabinets has not produced anything worthy of posting about (and she was smart enough to lock the bedroom door), I am forced to tell you one of my own stories.

On the days when I can barely put a post together to publish., I reach back into the ol’ memory box and think about some of the hundred – nay! – thousands of embarrassing moments I have accrued during my years on this mortal coil. One of those usually makes for an amusing post because if anyone can make a situation more embarrassing than need be, it’s this lil’ lady right here.

There are so many blush-worthy moments to chose from but I selected this one because it was the only one I could think of that didn’t involve bodily functions or a time I’d prefer family members didn’t know about.

On a scale of 0 to 10, I’d say this story ranks a three, if the zero is “get over yourself” and ten is “I wish the ground could swallow me whole”.

Many years ago, I worked at a hospital in admin. Proving to be organized and motivated, I had the opportunity to set up a new day surgery ward. Wanting to make a good impression, I decided to wear a skirt instead of the usual not-quite-office casual look.

It was the dead of summer when one likes to wear light, airy cotton but the voice of many “how to get that promotion” articles, various resource counsellors, and my Mom rang in my head, reminding me that nylons are a must when donning a skirt in the office. Bare legs are too casual and in my case, potentially blinding. Which has always been a bad thing to do to co-workers on the first day.

Because of some unshakeable bad karma, early on the first day at the new position, while dressing, I punched a hole in my nylons. And as Murphy’s Law would have it, I didn’t have a back up pair.

Oh you should have heard all those voices in my head when that happened.

I started to panic because it’s rare for me to be able to think straight in these situations. I was convinced that bare legs were going to be the downfall of my employment success. I had no alternative but to ransack the place looking for another pair.

All I could come up with was a pair of stay-ups, one size too big. But they stayed up and were the right colour (not actual photo of my legs that day, those belong to a blogger stand-in).

I made sure they would stay put by doing a little dance around the room, and felt confident because they only needed a small tweak post-boogie. Problem appeared solved.

You see where this is going don’t you?

OK, so now all I had to do was run out and catch the bus and be on time for the first hour of the rest of my life (or so it seemed at the time).

The stop was one block downhill and since I was wearing nice! girly! shoes, I half ran, half slid my way to the bottom of the road. This was where I had to cross, right by a road crew who were tarring something up – logic tell me it was probably a hole.

I gingerly plucked my way across the road, avoiding the loose asphalt, arcing clear of the place where the team was working. In all my fretting, one thing I did not notice was the big spot around the workers that had been tarred earlier but didn’t warrant orange cones. A large area that wasn’t 100% dry.

Did I mention it was hot – a really, really hot summer morning? And it was sunny, really, really sunny.

Well I stepped on that sticky, tacky area of road and when my foot came up, it was shoe-less.

With no time to react, I stepped down with the nylon-only clad foot and immediately took another step to hop away.

Only this time, when I hopped I felt the nylon stay-up slide and slither right down my leg.

Right in front of a very attentive road crew who looked nothing like this road crew.

Engulfed in the men’s laughter, I tried to act completely natural. Only stopping long enough to pry my shoe out of the soft road, I tried to pretend nothing happened. Wearing what I hope was a totally relaxed look, I tried to shove my now filthy shoe on my bare foot.

Walking with head high (but pride oh so very low) I managed to get to the bus stop and sit at the bench to collect myself. I looked back and saw my stocking half-stuck, half-flapping on the road.

Deciding it was better to remove the other one in front of already laughing road workers rather than a bus load of wackos (it was that kind of bus route), I reached down and stripped off the other leg and threw it over my shoulder into the bushes. I didn’t want to risk putting it in my purse, just to have it fall out at the wrong time.

If you could have heard how hard the road guys roared when I made that toss. They looked nothing like this guy while making fun of my predicament.

After what seemed like an eternity, or at least a full two minutes, the bus arrived and I climbed on board. Never had I been so grateful to get on the bus in my life.

Moral of this story? Um… I’m not sure there is one. I guess…. always buy two pairs? when in doubt, use duct tape? always bring a locksmith kit when blogsitting?

Whatever, all I know is I haven’t tried stay-ups since that day.