Adult Temper Tantrums

Remember when you were little and it was totally acceptable to freak out about something, turn into a complete spazz, and throw yourself on the ground kicking and screaming in defense? Looking back, those are cringe-worthy moments (not that I had them, I was a perfect child). Because now when I see children in full-blown freakout mode, it makes me want to overdose on birth control.

But this weekend I had a bit of an outer body experience. You know when you have the perfect outfit in your mind, and you spend time and good amounts of money trying to pull it together, and think you have it made … but later on find out you absolutely do not?

I was attending one of my good friend’s bridal showers, and what I was dreaming of wearing was my red palazzo pants from Zara, a lace black tank, and lots of strands of sparkly black beads, perhaps hair in a bun, and my strappy black stilettos. Sounds genius right? So I put my pants on, my tank, my heels, and started layering on all the strands of beads I purchased (which were not cheap), and well, the whole thing looked like shit. I felt my anxiety rising, but I took a deep breath and thought, “I’ll save the styling for last.” (Important point to my story: I don’t have AC in my upstairs, which isn’t conducive to rage.)

Luckily my best friend was there getting ready with me, and my mom … well lucky for me, not them. As I was slowly transforming into the Incredible Hulk over jewelry drama, I turned around only to hear from my best friend, “dude, can totally see your underwear.” Shit. What? I was wearing the only nude pair of undies I owned. So what do you do in a pickle like this? You go commando. Not my favorite thing in the world, but, meh, when in Rome. So I took it off, put my pants back on and did a little spin for my loved ones to check out my “situation” in the back, to which I saw faces trying not to burst out laughing … for fear they may die. Yeaaaahh I mine as well not have been wearing pants. My neck, my back, my woo haa and my crack were literally all out and about (gotta love silk pants). Sweet Jesus, my blood pressure. My blood pressure!

Bet you think it couldn’t get worse, right? Welp, have you ever had your mother say, “I KNOW! I’ll go get some of my underwear for you to wear.” At that point my mouth just hung open. Was she serious? “What?! They’re clean!” she screamed in defense of my shock. Sharing underpants with my mother? Is this what my life was coming to?! I was sweating, everyone was lying to me, I felt like crap about myself, and now this?! Enter adult temper tantrum stage right. It went just a little something like …

“I’m not wearing your damn underwear, you crazy woman.”
“NO! NO NO NO NO NO!” This is all mother f-ing wrong!”
“I look like shit.”
“You lie to me one more time I will cut you!”
“I hate these f-ing pants.”
“You all have heinous lie faces. HEINOUS!”
“Where are the scissors, I’m cutting these pants in half.”

And so on and so forth. I only gave you a dose of the massive amounts of curse words that were flying out of my mouth. God help my mother. But seriously … who offers someone their underpants? I mean I guess that’s love, in some odd backwards universe.

I was on a rampage, to the point where everyone just left me alone. And I was happy about it, because clearly I needed to find my zen. But on the voyage to find my zen, I looked in the mirror to find my hair looking like something Sporty Spice would have rocked back in the day. I tried to take deep breaths but the rage was coming out of my pours. If I could have screamed, “I’M NOT GOING!” ripped off my outfit, jumped back into bed in an air conditioned room, pulled the covers over my head and called it a day, I would have.

So there ya have it. Some may say I need medication, others would say I need therapy. I just call it the shit hitting the fashion fan all at once. When you don’t feel like you look your best, it alters your mood drastically. As much as I wanted slash still want to take a scissor to those pants, I got my shit together and wore them loudly and proudly to the bridal shower. I hope all the ladies in waiting enjoyed my panty line and being able to clearly see that they were lace. Because I looked HAWT.

Lessons learned: Try on your outfit dream ahead of time to check for wardrobe malfunctions. And get ready in air conditioning … ALWAYS. And if you don’t get ready in air conditioning and you are having massive wardrobe malfunctions, don’t take it out on your loves ones. OH YEAH … and if you are a mother, NEVER offer your daughter your underwear.

To my mother and best friend, I apologize thoroughly for my adult temper tantrum. Kids get pacifiers if they act up, I got Chardonnay. I was a win.