Wednesday, January 7, 2015

That Awkward Moment When You Say “Whip a Titty Out” in Front of the Wrong Person

Life is full of awkward moments. Like when you have cilantro in your teeth and no one tells you for two hours. Or when you gossip about someone and they overhear you. Or when you’re the only person in an elevator that smells like farts, and someone gets on at the next floor, and regardless of whether you dealt it, the person who smelt it is wrinkling their nose and shooting you daggers. (This feels especially unfair when you didn’t even deal it, and are being framed for someone else's flatulence).

Anyway, I once had a particularly hilarious awkward moment, one which I’m positive each one of us has had: when you talk about “whipping a titty out” in front of the wrong person. What’s that you say? We haven’t all had that moment? That’s OK. I’m good with being the only person in the history of mankind who has brought this moment upon herself. Therefore I feel it’s my obligation to relate it to the world.

Shortly after the birth of one of my kids, I was at an after-work function with several distinguished members of the community in attendance. With a glass of pinot grigio in one hand and a wedge of brie cheese in the other, I was holding forth to a small group of peers on the challenges of breast feeding at work. Tongue loosed by liquor, I cackled to them about how I was going to feed my baby and no one could stop me. I was going to pump and refrigerate that breast milk! I was going to bring my baby to work if I had to! I didn’t care who saw me! Goddammit, I was “GOING TO JUST WHIP A TITTY OUT!”


Unfortunately, this declaration happened to coincide with a moment of relative silence in the room, and several heads whipped around, among them that of a highly respected middle-aged male public figure. Our eyes locked and widened simultaneously as I realized I had unwittingly yelled at this person about my titties and he realized he had just heard about them, also quite unwittingly. Abandoning me in my time of need, my friends began to back away slowly, leaving me to wallow alone in a humiliating swamp of my own making.

There was nothing I could do but shrug and smile sheepishly, which is what I did, and I was lucky that this person had a sense of humor. He smiled back and raised his glass in a brief acknowledgement of solidarity and sympathy with my/our predicament.

The moral of the story is that the next time I yell in public about an inappropriate subject, I’m going to take a good look around and make sure I’m not in mixed company. Note I don’t promise to never again yell in public about an inappropriate subject. That would be asking far too much.

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