TMI Update

Following my overly personal TMI post, I came to a conclusion:

The slippy straps were slippy because they're made of fabric and not elastic. Elastic has gripper qualities that smooth fabrics don't have, so that was the problem. The exploding bra had elastic straps, so they stayed up better.

Following the advice of a couple of the commenters, I went to Nordstroms over the weekend and received some terrific help with my strapitude challenges. All is now well in TMI Land.

'Nuff said.

Punctuation Without Verbalization

Victor Hugo, when he wanted to know how Les Misérables was selling, reportedly telegraphed his publisher with the simple inquiry "?" and received the expressive reply "!"

--Lynn Truss

From my Page-A-Day calendar that has excerpts from Eats, Shoots & Leaves.

TMI

But I have to tell the story, because there really hasn't been much else exciting going on in a while.

I've mentioned before that I have difficulty keeping my bra straps from falling down, especially on the left side. So whenever possible, I wear a racerback bra or (now that those are hard to find) a criss-cross style, because the straps actually stay where they belong. Unfortunately, because of the way the straps lie, the straps would show when I wear certain tops, which is really tacky (not that it isn't tacky to go fetching the strap after it slides down my arm).

I found some dress tape at Target a while back. You tape one side to your skin where you want the straps to stay, and then you stick the straps on top of the tape. It works really well, unless you keep the tape there all day. Then it blisters your skin. This is not a good option.

Yesterday I wore a really cute top to church, but this top has a wider neckline that requires the slippy-strap bra, and I opted to forego the dress tape. Church went fine, other than the frequent annoyance over the strap situation, and I came home to find my roomie and a mutual friend getting ready to watch Season 6 of "24," so I joined them.

Sitting there, the Annoyance Factor got too great, and I remembered a bra I hadn't worn in a long time which wouldn't show and which had straps that stayed in place better than the one I had on, so I changed into the other bra and went back to watching Jack without the worry of strap-fetching.

My roomie made us some sugar-free banana splits (sugar-free ice cream with sugar-free caramel sauce on them), and they were wonderful. But shortly after I finished mine, I noticed a wet spot on my shirt above my waist. It wasn't watery, and my first thought was that I must have spilled some of the caramel sauce on myself, so I tasted it but it didn't taste like caramel.

I went in my room to check on it and change tops. By the time I got there, the wet spot was bigger. I took off my top carefully so I wouldn't get anything on my face or my hair, but my belly was wet and slippery where my shirt had been.

Then I figured it out. The bra I was wearing - the one that gave me freedom from errant strapitude - had gel cups (I had needed that bra to help me fill out the top of a dress that fit in the hips but was a bit too big on top, but I don't have the dress anymore). One of the cups must have sprung a leak, and whatever it was filled with was oozing out all over me. Just when I had found straps that stayed up!

I took the traitor off and threw it in the trash and took a shower to wash the gel off myself so I could get dressed in something dry. But I didn't know if the gel was safe (goodness, I had TASTED it!).

Then I remembered that I had another one of those gel bras buried way down under everything else. I found it in a plastic bag with other things I don't wear anymore. Wouldn't you know, that bra felt slimy too. But I found the tag that says what it's made of, and the gel is mineral oil and water. Reassured about my continued survival after having ingested the stuff, I threw the second bra into the trash with its partner in crime.

And when I had to go out for a couple hours later in the evening, I used the dress tape on the slippy straps without suffering any harm.

Sometimes, underneath it all, life is more challenging than we're ready for.

Flashy Thing Update

A few days after the traffic camera flashed at me, when I got the mail, I saw the City name on the return address of one envelope, and my heart sank. Then I checked the addressee, and it was my roomie. Probably the water bill.

That's the closest I came to getting a ticket, so they must have recognized the long time I spent at a complete stop after they flashed me and done the Emily Litella routine.

I'm very happy about that.

Power Line Prize Winner

Justin Folk was the $100,000 prize winner of the Power Line Prize for the best creative depiction of the federal debt crisis. Here is the winning entry, “The Spending Is Nuts”: