Why old friends are the best friends

Last night some friends invited us over for dinner. It was a chance to catch up with them and with another couple we have missed dearly since moving to Kansas. I have already blogged about trying to find clothes to fit a body that became pregnant 7 months after giving birth and is already another 6 months pregnant. It is not fun nor is it pretty. Interestingly enough, it makes getting ready easier since I only have about three things that I can wear. I feel just like Laura Ingalls when she could only choose between her calico print and her Sunday dress, except mine aren't made from sack cloths. That's just what I look like in them.

We were running late and so I was rushing to get dressed in the guest room in my parents house. It also is where Bennett's crib is and since she was napping, I got dressed in the dark. Can you see where I am going with this? We get to their house and I am chatting with 5 other extremely put together adults and I see one of their daughters whisper something to her Mom. I don't think anything about it. Then we all go to the kitchen where my completely unobservant husband whispers to me, "Um... honey? I think your shirt is on inside out." For my husband to notice something like that is slightly miraculous, so I know I must have looked like a sack cloth but just turned inside out.

So now I have two options. I either

a. Slink to the bathroom with my back against the wall as quickly as possible to correct the problem they all probably already noticed.

b. completely ignore this disturbing fact and pretend that it is the newest look for the spring according to Vogue

or c. just go ahead and announce that I am a walking fashion disaster and laugh at myself.

I chose c of course. They already knew. Of course that is what the 8 year old had been whispering about. If we had been in Kansas, I would have been mortified and regressed back socially about 5 years, but these were dear friends who knew me and laughed with me (not at me, I think) and didn't think a thing about it.

I did decide however that from now on, Bennett's naps will not hinder my getting dressed. If I must wake her to make sure I am dressed properly, then so be it because my fashion sense must not be denied.