Growing up, my mother always said we needed to look our best. I remember being a little girl and sitting transfixed by all the tubes, pots, and colors as she her put on her make-up. I loved to watch the transformation of my at-home-mommy to my on-the-go mommy.
When I was young, I don't remember very many days when she didn't have on make-up and nice clothes. Mom would put on her make-up just to go outside and check the mail. She always looked nice. Always. That made a huge impact on me. Add that legacy to a Southern upbringing and spectacularly low self-esteem and you end up with a woman who will put on lipstick to the clean the toilet. Though I must admit, I stopped that a bit after the Kid was born. Sometimes on the weekends, I don't even get out of the pjs I put on the day before. (My husband's lucky, I know). If I expect someone over or if I'm planning on going somewhere, then I better look good.
Especially if I'm going to the doctor.
The other day, I had a doctor's appointment for a suspected bladder infection/kidney infection. (For those of you keeping score at home, yes I was right with my diagnosis. That's the 9,453,362nd time I was right. Yet, another reason I should have gone to medical school and made the big bucks. I have a better record than Dr. Gregory House. *sigh*)
I always dress up to go to the doctor. It's not like I think because I have on heels the doctor will see me first or give me better care. It's not that I'm trying to impress anyone in the waiting room.
Wait. Now that I think of it, why do I dress up?
If I looked like hell, I'm betting the doctor would believe me better when I say that my right kidney feels like a thousand knives are stabbing it and I would kill my own cat to make the pain and spasms stop. That's why I couldn't even dress myself, doctor.... yeah...yeah... That's the ticket. Next time, I'm hurting I think I'll roll out of bed in my pajamas, with unbrushed teeth, and my wild, morning Rosanne Rosannadanna hair and make my doctor's appointment. He'll believe me then, when I say I'm about to rob a Walgreens for penicillin to get rid of the infection. Oh yeah. I'm on to something now. It's like the "Emergency Room Paradigm." You always seem to have to go to the ER when you look like a trailer park princess, smell like you rolled in dead possum, and have not painted your chipped toenails in a month. That's how you know it's an emergency, 'cause you didn't have time to put on a bra.
Oh, is that just me?
So there I was, all dressed up, looking nice... heels, make-up, fresh lip gloss, sick and in pain and at the doctor. Now the black pants that I had on had been itching me around the knee area, all day long. I kept picking at it, scratching behind my knee, but it wouldn't go away. It was about to drive me to distraction. I even went to the bathroom a couple of times, just to look at the back of my leg and see if I had a rash. I never found a thing, but there I would be later, walking along, teaching my kiddos, and the infernal itch would start again. I couldn't figure it out and the itching was about to put me over the edge just like the bladder/kidney infection.
Once I got called back to see the doctor, I was told I had to pee in a cup. As I made my way to the bathroom, I felt the itch again, this time almost on my ankle. As I closed and locked the door, I looked down. There, peeking out of the bottom of my pants, was a pair of black lacy underwear. I don't know how long they had been down there winking at the world.
Apparently, the static cling of the day had finally let go and there for all the word to see were my skivvies.
I'm thankful that they blended in with my black pants, and weren't, say, red and white striped. I'm so thankful that it wasn't in front of my class when the panties decided to make their appearance. I'm thankful that hopefully no one, but me saw.
I'm sad that this isn't the first time it's happened.
I really should invest in some Bounce dryer sheets.
