Bonzer Words!: One Of Life's Special Moments
...I asked her if anything was the matter. 'Yes,' she whispered. 'My panties are sliding down.'..
Gerda Aaberg tells of one of life's most embarrassing moments.
Gerda writes for Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au
In my very early years in Australia, working in an office in Perth, W.A., where it is 41° C on a summer day, I had put on a silky, red dress one day, hoping it would be cool enough. At lunchtime, I went outside, and the air hit me like an open oven in a bakery.
I went shopping, and in London Court I saw green olives being sold in paper bags. I bought some—my first ever, and their saltiness was just what I needed on this very hot day, and I have liked them ever since.
Goodness me, look at the time! I must hurry back to work, so I start running, but stop in my tracks, as something is not quite right? Oh, no, my panties have lost their elastic, and with a silky dress, this hastens their slide downwards (no panty hoses on in 41° heat). Luckily, I am now in a fairly empty street, but they start to show below my dress. Where to hide and get rid of the wretched things? There, a phone booth—only, in W.A. they were built like the French toilets for men.
(Correct me if I am wrong, I have never been to France, only seen films and pictures): They cover only your upper body; all of your legs are exposed (WHY?). Then I spot a doorway to another office building and dart in there, just as the garment falls around my ankles, and at the same time as a man comes down the stairs. Phew, a close call. I get back to work, and a woman colleague saves my day with a safety pin.
The story should end here, but there is a sequel . . .
In 1994 I visited U.K. and on one of my wanderings around the quaint historical streets of a town, I saw a woman standing, as if she was ill. Cautiously I asked her if anything was the matter. 'Yes,' she whispered. 'My panties are sliding down.' 'No worries,' I said and handed her a safety pin (which I have never travelled without, since that day in Perth, W.A.). While I stood guard, she fixed the wayward piece of underwear. Then I told her my own story, and we both roared with laughter.
Dear men: Now maybe, you understand why we so fondly have taken to wear your traditional clothing. A thing like that can never happen to something with pockets in them.
© Gerda Aaberg
