My cable guy saw me naked twice today. To be fair, I don’t know if he’s actually my cable guy. I seem to remember my cable guy being taller and less pony-tailed. For clarity’s sake I should say acable guy saw me naked today. Twice. Maybe he’ll throw in some free Skinemax.
This afternoon I decided to take a shower. I closed the drapes in my room because I was raised by a proper southern belle. I showered. I exited the shower, realized I’d left the stack of clean towels on the dresser that sits between the two windows. Not a big deal because I’d closed the drapes, right?
Olivia had opened the drapes while I was in the shower. The cable guy had also parked in front of our house while I was in the shower. He saw me wiggle jiggle run to the towels. I know this because he passed out dead. Not really, but how could he not see me when I was naked and filling the window all while desperately grabbing for a towel?
That was once.
I got dressed in my favorite blue t-shirt and my favorite shorts, tightened my belt, pulled on my shoes, and grabbed my kid to run a few errands. I studiously avoided his eyes as we pulled out of the driveway and drove by his van.
He was still here after Olivia and I ran our errands. I was all, what? Does he think this is some kind of porno? That I’d be back to blow him after I dropped off my Good*Will donations? Then I realized that he was in fact working, spraying intricate designs on my lawn in day-glo paint. Probably a message to the other cable guys – Fat naked lady lives here!
Still, because it is my nature, I seldom hide from humiliating experiences. I seek them, in fact. So, rather than pull the van into the garage, I parked it in the driveway because I was going to be leaving in an hour anyway. Upon exiting the van I realized my belt had become loose, so I surreptitiously tightened it as I trekked down to the end of the driveway to retrieve our garbage cans.
It was halfway back up our driveway that I realized that my pants were no longer sitting comfortably around my waist and instead had worked themselves halfway down one hip. I grabbed my shorts with one hand, effectively dropping one of the garbage cans which brought his attention back to me. I ignored him and worked one handedly to put my clothing to rights because God forbid I sit the other garbage can upright and use two hands to make sure my shorts didn’t fall down around my ankle. I was trying to be stealthy, people.
Clothing set to rights, I grabbed the other garbage can and continued my walk up the driveway. Just before I rounded the corner my belt said, “Fuck it” and totally came undone and my shorts slipped over my gut, down my flat ass, and to the ground leaving me looking like the Coppertone baby’s far less attractive and seriously out of shape great aunt.
I’m pretty sure he saw. I’m pretty sure he’ll never be the same again.