Getting dressed in dim lighting is a recipe for disaster, especially when you’re reaching for black clothes and your eyesight isn’t what it used to be. At 42, my vision isn’t sharp, and it seems that my ability to adhere to my own household rules has also faded. We don’t have many rules, but one I firmly uphold is that clothing must be worn properly or it gets returned folded inside out. With four kids running around, I simply don’t have the time for that. Yet, I learned the hard way that I wasn’t following my own guidelines.
I was in a rush—I’m always in a rush. There are days I drop my kids off in my nightgown, but this particular morning required actual clothes since I had errands to tackle. My husband was still asleep, so I tried not to disturb him with bright lights. I dashed into the closet, grabbed my yoga pants (which, let’s be honest, are rarely used for yoga) and a top, and threw them on. Then, I made my way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.
Remember, I have four kids? I interacted with all of them that morning. I moved back and forth between the family room and kitchen numerous times, with the kids watching me the entire time. When it was time to leave, they were all around me—behind and in front. They looked right at me, multiple times. Keep that in mind.
After dropping off the boys at school, I took my daughter to preschool. I got out of the car, walked her to the door, greeted the teacher, and turned to leave—still unaware of my inside-out pants. That was two more people. So, we’re at six now.
Next, I went to Target. I had a long shopping list, so I took my time and felt friendly that day. With masks on, smiles were hidden, so I greeted strangers instead. They returned the pleasantries. Some approached me from the front, while others passed by me from the back. Let’s consider those folks for a moment. If someone is in front of you, it’s hard not to notice what they’re wearing. I’m certain at least a dozen people caught a glimpse of my backside at Target. Who knows how many others in the aisles also noticed? I can only imagine there were plenty—employees and shoppers alike.
My next stop was Sam’s Club, where they check you in at the entrance. I conversed with one person there for sure. After a quick restroom break, I glanced at myself in the mirror while washing my hands. Looking good, or so I thought—except for the fact that my pants were inside out! Oh for Pete’s sake! Here we go again…
I briefly contemplated going back to the stall to change but decided against it. Instead, I marched out there, proudly displaying my size 10/12 on my backside, seams exposed for all to see. It became a social experiment: how long would it take for someone to point it out? Spoiler alert: not a single person said anything!
I decided to engage with everyone I encountered. Even if they didn’t notice the back, how could they miss the bold inner seams sticking out? I call BS. And you know what? I definitely noticed a guy at a previous outing with his shirt on inside out, but I didn’t say anything because he pushed ahead of my mother. So, whatever! But I figured an overworked mom deserves a heads-up!
Why is it that we often hesitate to inform others of their fashion faux pas? Is it akin to the Bystander Effect? You know, when someone witnesses a mugging and just stands by? I flashed my backside to the whole store, and no one felt compelled to help. Surely, no one would be offended by a gentle nudge to fix their outfit, right? Maybe a bit embarrassed, but angry? No way.
I returned home with my pants still inside out and asked my husband if he liked them. I claimed they were new but unsure about the fit. I did a little spin, stopping to let him see the back. Nothing! Not a peep. Now, I’ll chalk it up to him being disinterested and saying I look great in anything without even looking, as he often declares, “I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t here.” But even when I pointed it out, he just chuckled, just like all those folks probably did behind my back!
I have little shame left, thanks to my mother accidentally posting a photo of me on Facebook right after I gave birth. I was in the background of a picture, looking like I had just come back from the dead. After that, nothing could shock me. I’ve been to therapy, and I’m fine. However, I know there are others out there who genuinely want to know about their wardrobe mishaps.
So, I promise, if I see you with your underwear stuck to your shirt due to static cling, I will let you know. And I vow to point out any inside-out shirts I see, unless it’s an elderly person being rude—because, well, you know.
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Summary
The author humorously recounts a day when she accidentally wore her pants inside out without anyone pointing it out. Despite interacting with numerous people throughout her errands, no one mentioned her fashion faux pas. She reflects on the social dynamics of wardrobe malfunctions and promises to help others in similar situations in the future.
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