Tonight I’m going out for New Year’s, to a big swanky dinner dance. The family is coming with and I’m bringing B as my date.
So I’m hopping into my dress as the doorbell rings. I shimmy my legs in.
Ding Dong
I jerk the dress up. And tear the single stitch holding the front part of the dress together.
“Fuckshit.” I say, eloquently. My once lovely dress is now far too gappy at the chest area. I don’t want /that/ much attention paid to my assets, y’know.
In the end, we stitched it. But I don’t tend to swear out loud for minor reasons. 
I hope everyone has a safe New Year’s.
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