That Friday was hot. The sun was brutal. I knew it was hot when I woke up at 10 a.m. Now I love wearing dresses and skirts, but truth be told I am a Levi’s and t-shirt kind of girl. And I knew I had a long day ahead of me so comfort and practicality should have been in mind when I dressed. But the black striped jersey dress was perfect, so thin and airy. So I jumped in the shower and promptly shaved my legs resulting in a wicked cut due to my sleepy hung-over state. Too bad my new razor cut stood out boldly on my pale ass legs. Oh well, I’m off work, the sun is shining, and it is time to go play.

In hind site nylon panties were a poor choice. Yes they are saucy and make me walk with that extra zing-pow in my step. But in the heat of my car, with no AC, and the sun beating down they made me sweat. And let me tell you, there is nothing alluring to having sweaty lady parts. By the time I got to the first store on my list of errands, I was afraid I had sweat trickling down my thighs. This does not add a zing or a pow to my step. There is a sort of shuffle, hoping my cute little dress was not clinging to the back of my thighs. The whole time the cut on my leg was stinging from my sweat. At least it stopped bleeding.

Back safely in my car I inhaled a piece of chocolate, and opened my bottle of ice tea. Then promptly poured half of it down my front. Perfect. Sweaty panties and tea tits, at least the wet would dry quickly in the hot sun. By the time I got to my second stop the air in my car was humid from all the tea and sweat. Now my hair was suffering. I was a damp-bodied, cotton-swap-headed vision. I shopped quick. In my hasty escape I sat on my only pair of sunglasses.

While carefully twisting them back into shape, I called my friend to see what the evening plans were.  Italian for dinner in one hour.  I could make my last stop, and go straight there.  But this would mean no pit stop at home to redo myself.  Now I don’t have much time to get things done, I needed to make this last stop.  And I couldn’t forgo dinner, I mean come on, pasta wine and friends, who am I to say no?  So I dashed through the last store and raced back across the city with my crooked sunglasses and frazzled hair, smelling like tea and sitting in my sweaty panties. 

I tried to fix myself up in the car.  I had a piss-poor brush, body spray, and a bad shade of eyeliner. I became a hot-mess MacGyver. Dinner was great; I had too much pesto, bread and wine.  I almost forgot what a tragedy I had become.  Then I came home.

To my horror, my hair was beyond disheveled; my strange colored eyeliner was starting to smear in a Courtney Love kind of way.  So I washed my face and peeled off my sad dress.  Lo and behold, there was quite a party in my bra.  Bread crumbs, and a melted piece of chocolate from my earlier snack.  Sweet tits.  I freed my sweaty ass from the nylon hell of those saucy panties.  For the next hour, I was planted in a large cotton t-shirt on the couch with my beer. Next time I try to be fabulous on a hot day, I’ll stay inside or do it in cotton.