This Go Sober 2014 cutting back lark is not without its risks – cheered by the loss of 3lbs since I started trying to slim and sober down in time for Christmas I decided to try my ‘skinny’ black pencil skirt on this morning, instead of the safe grey one designed for flabbier days that I’ve been hiding in recently.
All was going well and I have to admit to a little wiggle as I trotted back from dropping off Katy at school in time to catch the bus to work, though looking back I did feel an uncharacteristic chill in the air, which I put down to the gusty Autumn weather. That was when a worried-looking woman caught up with me, tapped me on the shoulder and said: “Excuse me – you need to pull down your skirt!” I thanked her and brushed an exploratory hand behind my skirt to realise – there was no skirt! My six-inch rear kick pleat had grown and was now split clear up to the waistband – I might as well have been wearing an open curtain. I’d done a complete Amanda Holden – only instead of revealing a discreet flash of perfect peachy behind I was displaying a full moon, complete with American tanned tights. My tactful passer-by had slightly underestimated the situation. I didn’t need to pull my skirt down – there was no skirt to pull, what she should have said was – “You need to run home at the speed of light and get back into your safe podgy-day skirt this minute.”
I was still eight long minutes from home – and because of circumstances too tedious to go into here there are, at the moment, two builders permanently stationed outside my house with nothing to do all day but keep an unnaturally close eye on everyone coming and going. Talk about the walk of shame. I tried swinging by bag behind my back, taking giant strides, taking tiny strides but nothing helped. Eventually I reached the relative safety of the corner and could at least keep my back against the wall and sidle round the corner like a 1970s TV cop. I all but prayed for Starsky to appear and offer me his nice roomy cardigan as I scream “Cover me” Hutch-style. If only.
Eventually I was safely back home where I pulled the curtains, abandoned what was left of the skirt of shame, changed into my safe grey one and left the house trying to look as nonchalant as I could, which wasn’t very.
So thank you to my brave and chivalrous stranger – I only wished you had caught up with me a few minutes later, when I was closer to home. Next time I feel like taking a walk on the wild side I will remember to check my rear view in a mirror…