Teacher, Dress Thyself

Of the many things that I agree to do, but don't really want to do, I managed to allow myself to get signed up for the state bowling tournament.

I do not love bowling, but I do love drinking, so I've bowled in a league for most of the last 6 years. While I suck tremendously at the "sport", I enjoy that fat, old, drunk, lazy people can play right along with the pros. Try that with sumo wrestling.

I also love that you can wear pretty much whatever the hell you want. Because chances are you're still going to be better looking that our local alley nut case whom we call Wiggy. See, Wiggy thinks that a wig, a string bikini top and/or short-shorts are acceptable attire. I have proof;

Oh, sorry. I should have warned you.

So, anyway, you can see that this is not a sport that "fashion" is a real concern.

Now, I know that since it's a tournament, there are rules as to what is or is not acceptable. For example, in the past denim, shorts and printed tee-shirts have all been out. Fair enough. So I called ahead to verify that my white capri's would be okay. They were, so I planned accordingly. Since my pants were white and my ass not something the world needs exposure to, I brought a long tunic-style top with a v-neck and layered a tank underneath it.

The thing about boobs, especially big boobs, is you're pretty much going to always have cleavage unless you're wearing a turtleneck. Sometimes even then. I didn't think the twins were dangling too far out so I was pretty shocked when they asked me to leave and go change.

That's right.

My boobs got me thrown out of a bowling alley.

So I had about 10 minutes to find something else to wear. Normally, I would have just worn J's spare work short, but of course he had taken it out of his truck. I couldn't run home because we were 150 miles away. At it was 7am so no where was open. Except Walgreens.

I hop in the truck, race to Walgreens and fully intend to buy a tee shirt. Because Walgreens always has piles of tee shirts, right? ALWAYS. Stacks and STACKS of them at 5/$10 or something.

Except, of course, when you need a damn tee shirt. THEN they only have a handful. In childrens sizes. I haven't worn a children's size ANYTHING in about 27 years. Frantically, I wreck pile after pile of tiny, tiny tee shirts searching frantically for an adult size. THEY HAVE TO HAVE A DAMN ADULT tee shirt in here, I mutter under my breath, flinging aside minuscule shirt after minuscule shirt. WTF. I have exactly 3 minutes to find a damn shirt, buy it, drive to the alley, put it on and line up. Finally, there at the bottom is one single solitary child's XL undershirt.

I snatch it up, sprint to the checkout, throw some cash at Methuselah's mother and race back to the bowling alley. I shove other bowlers out of my way in a mad dash for the ladies, whip off my shirts and dubiously hold up my sausage casing. What the hell? I figure and put it on.

And I'll be a monkey's uncle if I wasn't able to get that sucker on.
Who'd have thought?

As you can see, though, it was a little...um...tight. And see-through. And TIGHT. I'm pretty sure the cleavage would have been less distracting than my impression of a naughty, naughty nurse/cocktail waitress, but rules are rules, right?

(That's me, drinking beer at 8a.m., in a child's tee shirt, while surrounded by elderly people gambling their retirement and eating fried food. Which makes a good argument for America being the best country in the whole damn world.)