Hairy & Tight

Posted on: May 22, 2011


I put my feet up on the dash.


That’s me in my car just after leaving an award ceremony.

And so it goes…

After deciding to wear a dress that’s too short, a shoe too tight (although it did not start out that way) and allowing myself to “get away” with legs that are too hairy (hairy, considering that I’m a “shaver”).

It’s Monday and I’m going to an award ceremony on Thursday. I have no idea what I’m wearing but I do nothing about that. It’s now Thursday morning and I begin to panic. I can’t not go… It’s work related and important to a lot of people. It’s too late (I’m SUPER PICKY) now to go running around the city trying to find something now. Although I’m still going to try mind you☺. I pull something from the closet as a backup.

Me: KUBAAAAAAAAAAAA! (He’s been in my closet – There are stains on my dress)

Kuba: Yes!

SIDE NOTE: The more verbal he becomes the more it irritates me when I call him and he answers me “Yes”. It’s all me not him. I blame my mom for this… Ahh, the pressure. When I was growing up I couldn’t dare answer “yes“ when being called by my mom. You just could not do it.

Me: Come here!
He comes

Me: Look at that!

Kuba: Look at that!

SIDE NOTE: Kuba has what is referred to echolalia. Echolalia is the immediate and involuntary repetition of words or phrases just spoken by others, often a symptom of autism. For e.g. Let’s say Kuba and I run into Anderson Cooper from CNN’s AC 360. I’m going to say… “Hi AC (Yes… In my head we know each other :)) and he would say… “Hey SC ( that would be a joke between us). Then he would stoop down and say hi to Kuba and there’ll be no response from Kuba so I would have to verbally prompt him and say… “Kuba say hi to Anderson.” Kuba would say… “Say hi to Anderson.” Then I would quickly say… “No… Hi Anderson” – This is to make him realize that his first response is incorrect and this (Hi Anderson) was the proper thing to say. After some chitchat AC and I would go our separate ways with plans for lunch at my house soon. Don’t worry, Charlton knows him too. It’s not that kinda thing. Anyway, did you get that just now? The example I mean (LOL). Kuba’s made quite a bit of improvement over the years but it’s (echolalia)still there. For those of you who want to know more about the echolalia just Google it; you find tons of resources.

Me: How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of my closet?

Kuba: Stay out!

He’s looking at me with a blank stare because no one but June Cleaver and me can see the stains. He’s backing up out the bedroom door but doesn’t want to lose eye contact because I have the “mad face” and I may not be done talking.

SIDE NOTE: He’s come such a long way with picking up on social cues. I’m so proud – We have to look for achievements in every situation. Now I can’t praise him on this… That would just mess up my whole “mad emotion” plus no doubt be confusing to him. “Kuba, you destroyed mommy’s dress but great job honey recognizing that mommy is mad at you for doing that” ☺.

I let him go.

Now I have the brightest idea I’ve had all week. I’m going to wash the dress that clearly says dry-clean on the label. I blame the clothing manufactures and the drycleaning industry who started this conspiracy to get me to dry-clean my clothes just by placing the word on the label – And since 1980 they started placing ‘Only” beside it. Raise your hand if you’ve never washed a garment that said “Dry-clean Only” and nothing happened to it. I thought so.

Moving right along…Wash the dress… Nothing rigorous – Leave it to drip dry.

As I had predicted I find nothing (to wear) that was speaking to me in the city. I did get a pair of shoes though… I needed them – I tried on the left foot only (there’s that word again – bad sign) in the store – Second mistake of the day.

Get home…Trying on the dress…

Me: Lord help me. Don’t rip. Don’t rip. Don’t rip

Trying to get it past my hips people. I have my spanx on so that’s helping – Giving me a smooth surface to slide the dress over. I’m stepping into it.

Ahhh… It’s on! I look in the mirror and stand on tiptoes to get the high-heel profile. I like :). It’s just a little bit shorter than I would like but it could pass… It’s a classic dress. I need to get it off so I can iron and leave. I’m running late. I made a mental note that I will need to put on my spanx so I can get on the dress.

Bathe…. Yada, yada, yada

Charlton comes in…

I’m wearing spanx and a bra, makeup on. He says…

Charlton: Where are you going?

Me: Remember I told you that I was going to an award ceremony

Charlton: That’s true. I forgot

Charlton: Why are you wearing that?

He’s referring to my spanx

I want to say shut-up but I say…

Me: Because I want to wear it. It makes my clothes look better

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

Time to step into the dress…

Charlton is watching me gently tug and twist trying to get the dress past my hips. Seems like I’ve gotten fatter since my shower.

Charlton: Let me help you

Me: No!

Charlton: Let me help you

Me: No! Don’t help because I’m going to blame you if it rips – And I don’t have anything else ready to wear now

Charlton (Laughing): Let me help you. You need somebody to push in your bottom

He starts pushing down on the top of my butt

Me: Nooo! Stop! You’re gonna rip the dress

Charlton (still pushing down on my butt): Let me help you. You just need to push in your bottom

Me: OMG! Leave me alone! I don’t want my dress to rip!

We’re both laughing. He stops trying to crush my ass

Charlton: See… I’m trying to help you but you don’t want my help

Me: Thanks for help honey but I got it. I’ll get it up

And it’s up…

What a relief!

Charlton: How are you going to get out of it?

Me: Now is all I care about. I’ll deal with that when the time comes. If it rips when I’m taking it off that’s fine. It just can’t rip now. Plus you can help me take it off later 😉

His face lights up 🙂

I give myself a once over in the mirror – Put on my flip-flops. Yeah, I’m trying to make a conscious effort to not drive in my shoes since it’s ruining all of them. I have perfectly good shoes that just look ratty at the back because of the constant rubbing when I’m driving in them. Anyway… So flip-flops, grab my clutch, my new heels and I’m out the door. I hike up my dress before sitting in the car.

I’m there…

I put my new heels on. The right foot feels a bit snug. It went on but it was just snug. I think to myself… “Salma, why didn’t you try on both? Who buys a shoe and only tries on one?

I walk in the hall and I’m escorted to my seat. It’s in the third row.

I sit down…


My dress is up to my fricking crotch!

Ok… My crotch is not exactly showing but this is short! Much shorter than I expected. And I’ve “let myself go” all this week by not shaving (I’m a serial-shaver) the full length of my legs so I could see hairs. Granted only me and June Cleaver can see them but… SHIT! It’s so fricking bright in here! I mean I didn’t expect it to be dark but at least a little dimmer than it is. And the icing on the cake… Guess… Take a guess…

A TV camera is just a stones-throw away from me. GREAT! Just GREAT!

I want to get up and leave but I sometimes give too much thought to what others think so I stay.

I silently chant…

Please don’t film the audience.
Please don’t film the audience.
Please don’t film the audience.

Ok… We’re two hours in. I’ve come to accept my “crotch dress”, my hairy legs and this blasted sunbeam light in here. Then guess what happens? Just guess…

My right foot (mainly my little toe) starts tingling. This is the foot that’s in the shoe I didn’t try on in the store – And the world is about to end in two days. I’m going to hell for being an idiot.

So, I’m trying to enjoy the ceremony which has been really entertaining so far but this “tight shoes” is moving past uncomfortable and I’m going over in my mind whether I should take them off or not – But I sometimes give too much thought to what others think so I don’t. Like what else are they gonna think other than my shoes are tight. Raise your hand if you’ve never taken off tight shoes at an event. No hands? I thought so. Sometimes I think I need to get over myself.

I think in the back of my mind though, that I didn’t want to take them off and bring anymore attention to the “crotch dress” other than what I was getting from the folks seated next to me. So I start flexing my toes, tapping my feet, rest on my heels. Lord… I didn’t know what I didn’t do other than “tek aff de shoes”. It was almost laughable.

I’m thinking to myself…

OMG! Hurry up and end! I’m beginning to lose concentration.

IT’S OVER! And they announce that they will be serving refreshments and guests will have an opportunity to mingle with awardees and organizers. Usually I would stay an mingle a little – But there was no time for that now my feet were being amputated by a pair of shoes.

My car! I can see my car! I’m almost there.

I’m in! I’m in! I’m in!

I slide my seat back, clench my teeth (prepping for when my heart leaves my chest and jumps to my feet), and take my shoes off…


I put my feet up on the dash.


The blood starts flowing back to my head. I put on my flip-flops get into position and head for home.

SIDE NOTE: Are you kidding me! Of course I’m going to wear that dress and shoes again! I’m fearless 🙂

BTW, the 1980 Dry-clean bit… I have no idea what I’m talking about. The conspiracy thing is real though.


2 Responses to "Hairy & Tight"

I’m a serial shaver as well on Sunday in all my excitement to get to the beach cause it wasn’t raining I didn’t shave my legs….so there I was lounging and getting ready to take pics and saw my legs….you know the pesky and scattered ones….LMAO….but I had a blast spent the entire day at the beach

You shudda jus tek aff de shoes. I did that at an ball last year (trying to be stush), almost black out, literally. lol. NEVER AGAIN. Pretent you don’t see anybody and jus “”tek aff de shoes”. lol

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