Flashing the Congregation with Some Hot Cross Buns


ginger“Hey mom, is that your wedding dress?”

That’s the question I got this morning from my young daughter who has rarely seen me wear a dress.

Quite simply, because I don’t like to wear dresses.

Fifty years, a nine-month stint carrying a human being inside of me and several hundred varicose veins later, my pegs don’t exactly scream Betty Grable.

Hence, I mostly wear pants.  Unless of course, all my pants are buried in a pile of dirty clothes, like today.

So this morning I dusted off my only Spring-like linen, crisply pleated dress to wear for a special youth church choir performance in celebration of the Pentecost.

The children’s choir is actually one of my daughter’s favorite extracurricular activities.

I like it too because there aren’t too many activities that focus on kindness, being gentle and loving.

A sharp contrast to the youth soccer game this weekend when my daughter was slammed in the chest by a ball kicked by a 4th grade girl who was built like former football defensive tackle Rosie Grier.

A walking public service announcement against feeding your children meat and milk with added growth hormones.

I digress…

Wearing a dress is an art and an exercise in acting like a lady.

I even managed to avoid flashing the congregation while kneeling during communion and remembered to keep my legs crossed while sitting in the pews.

Really quite a challenge for a chronic pants wearer.

Any way, I was feeling pretty good about myself while drapped in my lovely linen dress.

I imagined myself sashaying and twirling down the halls singing, “Good morning, good morning” from Sing’in in the Rain.

And then the large iced coffee I consumed from Mickey D’s an hour earlier forced a pit stop to the Ladies Room.

As I re-entered the stream of church goers, more congregants than usual were smiling at me.

Was it my beautiful dress?

My elegant Ginger Rogers stride?

Suddenly, a man screamed, “Jesus Christ!”

Obviously, not an unusual sound given the setting, however, I’d heard this particular scream hundreds of times before.

It was my husband who must have been daydreaming during the “don’t say the Lord’s name in vain” part of the sermon.

As indiscreetly as possible, he yanked the back of my lovely pleated linen dress out of my girdle-like granny panties.

That’s right, I just flashed the congregation.

I decided just to explain my Pentecostal posterior by telling people I was playing Rahab, the town prostitute in the reenactment.

Let’s just say the Pentecost flag was not the only thing that was fiery red in the church, add my face red with embarrassment.

Not only have I flashed my jugs in church, now, I can add flashing some hot cross buns to the list.

Advertisements

30 thoughts on “Flashing the Congregation with Some Hot Cross Buns

  1. OMG – I’m dying here. You can’t make stuff like that up, this is priceless.
    (I’m a 100% pants wearer myself and I probably would have worn my husband’s pants before wearing a dress or skirt). xo

  2. That was a sign from GOD! No skirts for you!! You are really having quite the go of it in the wardrobe department. I love that your husband just blasphemed himself aloud when it happened though. Very funny!

  3. I’m so glad your dad and I were not there….I would have peed my pants and there would have been two loud JC’s

  4. HYSTERICAL!!!! Honest to God, I’m surprised that hasn’t happened to me. I was thinking that at my son’s First Communion this weekend–crossing my legs, trying not to flash people. TOO funny. JJ I wish I went to your church—sure would be fun!!!!

  5. Poor you (but I had to laugh!)!!! Okay, that has ALMOST happened to me but my daughter (12 yo) caught me (and fixed me) on my way out the door … after passing by both my husband and my two sons. Did they not notice???? Where they hoping I would share my hot cross buns???? I don’t know. I told her she’s my QC Check from now on!!!!

    • Good for your daughter! It figures the guys wouldn’t notice, right? It actually happened to me another time years ago at a new job. Luckily, the woman who discovered it for me ended up being one of my close friends.

Your Comment May Be Better Than Story, Please Leave One...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s