Motherhood on Tour: Wardrobe Malfunctions

Recently I crawled out from the Havin’ Lots O’ Babies cave where I’d been not-sleeping the past 8 years and heard some amazing news!


Here is what you should probably know:

  • I am unsure whether this album is actually still “new.”
  • I am unsure whether the word “album” is actually still relevant.
  • I am unsure whether this is the proper way to use bullet points.

Unfortunately, as the above will illustrate, I am no longer cutting-edge enough to make an intelligent comment on this breaking news, nor do I definitively know what those polka dots are supposed to be doing next to those words up there.

Here is what I know about Janet Jackson: 

  • She played Penny on Good Times.
  • She is the only woman who has ever looked gorgeous in a baseball hat (much less a baseball hat paired with 7 pounds of chrome hardware):
Hot in this hat. Do NOT try this at home. Or at the grocery store. Or ever.

Janet is a professional. Do NOT try this at home. Or at the grocery store. Or ever.

  • She is a really good singer. But not as good as Michael. (Sorry.)
  • She once had a wardrobe malfunction that looked like this:
Janet Jackson

Wardrobe malfunctions are soooo 2004. OVER!

And that, my friends, is called a segue.

Because it just so happens that similarly identical in a cookie-cutter, twin-like clone way to Janet Jackson …

… I have also had my fair share of wardrobe malfunctions.

Except mine are an entirely different version.

Instead of these wardrobe malfunctions being sexy and being caused by Justin Timberlake provocatively pawing at my chest, my wardrobe malfunctions are performed as a regrettable solo act.

And I sense that among other mothers I’m not alone.

Because my wardrobe malfunctions are the kind that come with focusing part of my brain on dressing other people. And it’s a wonder that any of us dressing-other-people people have enough of our brains left to even put clothes on ourselves. We have thousands of tiny clothing holes into which we must insert thousands of slightly-less-tiny limbs and heads and buttons (and in sequential order so as not to leave any obnoxious empty holes), and there are just not enough hours in the goddamn day to also properly clothe our own slumpy, broken backs.

Here is what you should know about my recent performances featuring wardrobe malfunctions:

  • I often will wear shirts that have been puked on, pooped on and chewed on. I wear sensible Mister Rogers cardigans nearly every day to hide this fact.
  • I haven’t taken my dry-clean-only work clothes to a dry cleaner since 2012. I hope you haven’t noticed.
  • I have literally walked around with a marble-sized wad of chewed-up blue tortilla chips in my micro-cleavage for an estimated time of two hours before I finally figured out why I smelled like the warm Pawnee Indian corn cakes my 2nd grade class made during our 1982 field trip to Pioneer Village. Tada! I made them with my boobs! [Note to Personal Fan Club: This could happen to you if you also (1.) have at least two breasts, and (2.) mindlessly scroll through Facebook at 11 p.m. while leaning against the kitchen counter stress-shoving crunchy food into your mouth while wearing your low-cut nursing pajamas for no one in particular. Practice, practice, practice.]
  • I have stored feminine hygiene products in my shirt sleeve while at my office, precisely before taking a bathroom break. I’ve been a tad too swingy with my arms. I’ve overestimated the elasticity of my shirt sleeve. [Note to Personal Assistant: Belts or boots or umbrellas with secret tampon holsters … get on it. Invent it and then patent it. Label it my signature collection.]
  • And my personal favorite nod to sexy Miss Janet. Drumroll, please. I obliviously did this once after nursing my infant in a darkened room:
Wardrobe malfunction

Behind the scenes it actually takes a lot of hard work to look this hot.

And then after I emerged from the darkened room, instead of performing a sexy Super Bowl halftime show, I stood and talked with the air conditioning repairman … for a full 20 minutes. And I never even broke a sweat.

Until I spotted myself in the mirror moments later.

[Note to Agent: Next time I perform this way with a dance partner. Preferably a handsome up-and-comer half my age. Choreographed by Tina Landon. And set to saxophone solo. Do people do saxophone solos anymore? Please advise.] 

10 thoughts on “Motherhood on Tour: Wardrobe Malfunctions

  1. There is speculation that Janet’s wardrobe malfunction was a carefully planned ploy by certain league officials to get millions of men to sit through half-time shows in the highly unlikely event it ever happens again. On an unrelated note, you put the blue in blue corn tortilla chips.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Well, dem purty polka dots make some good points. You can never go wrong with a strategically placed Mr. Roger’s cardigan. In fact, I just took off my green cardigan and swapped it with the more laid-back blue one to cover up the Doritos dust on my boobs.

    By the by, how’s this for weird? I just finished writing a post (I rewrote a Seinfeld episode) and I mention both dry cleaning AND boobs in it. We must be drinking the same freaky-deaky WP water.


  3. So here are my contributions, you just think you had wardrobe malfunctions:
    During “the war” whichever war that was, elastic in your undies was replace with something other than elastic. Drawstrings? My grandmother and her sister were walking down Broadway street in Galveston and my grandmothers “drawrs” fell down. As the story goes she just stepped out of them and kept walking. Now that’s class!😜

    My mother was hanging clothes on the clothesline before clothes dryers were invented and my father came up to her and said “Beeetttttty…” and placed his hand on her backside. She had been hanging up clothes with her skirt tucked into her panties.😆

    So, no worries. 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Bwahahaha! So glad to be over THOSE days. But don’t they make for blog gold? That pic — and your story — is just awesome. Thanks for having the huevos (breasticles?) for sharing it publicly.

    PS – I remember giving up the diaper bag for just a single diaper tucked at the tramp stamp and a small bottle of bubbles in the front pocket (babies will be ‘nice’ for bubbles) with a flannel baby ‘bankie’ for multi-use. Did I mention how glad that isn’t me anymore?

    Great post, Vi. As always.


    • You have THE BEST TIPS, Shannon! Please share with me all you know about being a mom and using random objects for getting by in the madness of being a parent.


      • Oh, I’m sure you have a few of your own by now! ‘Madness of being a parent’ doesn’t get cured, by the way. It worsens as they become teens and (gasp!) real grown up people that look you in the EYE as they defy you.


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