We all know that slow, dull twinge that comes with embarrassment, yes?
The fever that sets in your cheeks when you realize you've committed a completely silly faux pas. The hazy regret that comes with hindsight.
Those occasions when you scrutinize every word, every action, every thought tied to the incriminating deed in question.
Embarrassment is flush with humility and humble regret.
Maybe it rears its head after an unfortunate exchange of text messages. I know that I, myself, have fired off a missive or two when I shouldn't. Anger, hurt and the romance of wine are all quick to cloud our judgment, and sometimes social media is the Achilles' heel that allows us to run with reckless abandon.
I really need to download one of those apps that forces me to summon all my knowledge about algebra before allowing me to send a late night text.
Embarrassment can arise, too, during cases of mistaken interpretation. This unfortunate scenario involves your saying something completely benign and perhaps even self deprecating, only to have the listener totally misconstrue the meaning of your statement.
It's only after the fact that we realize someone completely took us for a douchebag, when the intent of a statement was far less inflammatory.
The third frequent scenario of eating crow - let's call this one the Janet Jackson Clause.
The always unfortunate Wardrobe Malfunction.
This one got me in the end on Saturday. Literally.
There we were, a handsome group of ladies and solo gentleman, chauffeured in a private car to Turfway Park for a day at the races in the clubhouse, courtesy of the lovely Vinery Stables out of Lexington.
We were fresh faced, fancy with hats and feathers and ready for a fantastic time at the track.
I wore a little black dress. Emphasis on little. It's a cute frock I've pulled out from the archives as my physique has slimmed down a bit. Classic, tailored lines with a boat neck and a short hem.
I'll admit. It looks great when I'm standing. Sitting is a little bit of a problem. I had no idea how much of a problem until I got into the car that morning.
Cue the massive, "As big as a spaceship," hat that is just big enough to double as a lap cover. My style has never been demure and understated, and Saturday was one day where I was glad my massive hat could serve dual purpose.
Cocktails. Conversation. The afternoon in the clubhouse dining room was just charming.
We decided to take a stroll down to the trackside VIP tent to catch up with some friends. More cocktails. More conversation.
About an hour passed and our group gathered to return to the clubhouse.
We walked. We walked. And then a woman with Security cruised by in a golf cart.
"Psst. Pull your dress down."
It seems the wind had blown my back slit wide open, allowing the entire world to see my London and France.
Adding insult to injury, one of the racing spectators ran up to me to warn me of the wind and its affinity for my caboose.
Talk about embarrassing.
We all have moments when we show our ass, figuratively, or in my case - literally.
It's what we do with that moment that has the potential to turn around that opportunity. Maybe you shut your phone off when you're having a saucy night on the town. Maybe you choose your words more carefully.
In my case, I'm going to have to reconsider when I wear that dress.
Kate's Random Musings by Kate the Great is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.