Ode to Christmas, coincidently, another nakie story

This happened about 4 years ago but it's one of those stories you don't just get to share at will..it needs..space to breath..time to settle in.. a special audience.

If you sing or know a singer, say, from church, then you might understand the intensity with which the "Christmas song" is sought. I begin looking usually in September, scouring websites, sneak previews, etc. This year was no different. I found THE song, a new song, a perfect song. It was a challenge vocally in a few places but I knew I could learn it and train the strain out of it. "One King" was the song. Next on the list is "The outfit" THE outfit. THE OUTFIT. And again, earthly perfection. Black slacks, black jacket, ivory satin turn-back cuffs and collar...the kind of jacket that you don't wear a shirt under, it zipped up the front, struck me about the hips, slimming pants..black pumps, pearls. That's right, nifty!

Now..in my church at the time, I was the pianist...and I taught a Sunday School class, 3rd graders..5 boys..FIVE..boys. One little girl. One thing they loved was painting so we painted ornaments. In order to ensure I did not muss the outfit, I wore old clothes that morning for class time..then with about 10 minutes left before I had to be on-stage to begin.. I dashed to the ladies room to change and re-do my do. So far so good. I slip into my outfit and rush out, five minutes to warm up my voice and arrange my music at the piano for the umpteenth time.

Things begin to..well.. it gets ugly fast. So I march up on stage and turn at profile to the congretation. Folks are beginning to filter in and the sound guy is in front of me at stage right, soundchecking me while I am fiddling with my hair and humming. I have my hands up over my head, fluffing and poofing and I'm telling him to turn up the monitor and he's just staring at me. Odd. He taps his chest..and I'm like, "Yes you..turn up the monitor..I can't hear it.." He shakes his head and taps his chest and I swear his eyes were barely in the sockets.

A warning, when the world begins to move in slow motion, something is VERY WRONG. I look at his chest then begin to tilt my head down, to look at mine, and I see it. Or them, as it were. Yuh huh. THEM. In my haste to get ready I didn't hook in the bottom of the zipper on my jacket..and it has unzipped from the bottom upward and is clinging to life by one leeeeetle tooth at my neck. And, with my arms up over my head, the thing is spread wide over my very fair fleshed torso, starkly clad in a shiny black bra. Uh huh. It is at that moment that the world catches up to me and I glance to my right at the CROWD then grab my jacket to close it and run for the side stage door. Poor sound tech guy...he can't even look me in the eye..he turns his head and opens the door for me to rush inside and I re-zip. All the while I am thinking, "Thank goodness my bra matches my outfit!"

Now..at the time I had NO idea why I'd had a WARDROBE MALFUNCTION. I only knew that I had to be on stage, NOW, to start services, they can't start without the pianist, and while this outfit fits right, the best thing is, holding one's breath, right? So like a trouper, I go back out, sit down at the piano and breath shallowly then get up to sing my perfect song..without ever taking a deep breath, continually trying to be non-chalant about touching my jacket front..yup, girls still tucked in, goody. Sound tech guy still won't make eye contact..and I had no idea who all saw it happen.

So I make it through the service and pull my two best friends aside to tell them what happened. SO embarassing...but no...even better..I turn around at the end of the story just in time to catch the Sound Tech guy's wife's eye..and she give me "the look" and I shrink inwardly and try to laugh it off but I can tell..she's not happy. He walks by with his head turned..and I just smile and blush and dash out but inside I'm screaming, "Lady, these things are on a hair trigger, it's not my fault!" I figured that wouldn't go very far as a means of apologizing..so I just left it alone. Now and then I stare at that outfit, which I refuse to get rid of but am afraid to wear, cause I love it.

The moral of this story is... always wear a pretty bra.

Happy Holidays!