You know you’ve been friends a long time when cleaning out a closet, while drinking Mike’s Hard Lemonade, not only sounds like fun but is an all day event. That’s how my best friend visiting from Georgia and I spent our Saturday afternoon. There are few people that can be as brutally honest with me as Erin – and still be my friend.
Me: “What about this purple turtle-neck sweater?”
Erin: “Um – only if you are planning on getting your belly button pierced because that sweater barely comes past your boobs.”
Me: “What about this pretty pink and cream floral shirt?”
Erin: “It’s a shirt? I could have sworn that was your grandmother’s shower curtain.”
Me: “Can I keep this shirt if I only wear it under something?”
Erin: “I’m thinking no. When the yellow pit stains look more like tie-dye down the side, it’s time to get rid of it.”
Yeah – pretty much like that.
By the end of our private fashion show, I had filled up two large trash bags. Needless to say, I was pretty hot and sweaty from trying on hours of clothes. One last t-shirt pulled over my head dislodged my right earring and sent the back sailing through the air. Luckily, I caught it almost mid-flight but the earring itself seemed to just evaporate. I could have sworn I had felt it hit my chest, but nothing ever hit the ground. We searched high and low, tearing apart the newly organized fashion lair. Then I re-traced my steps through our bedroom and downstairs hoping that maybe it had somehow fallen out early in the day and the back had miraculous clung on until that last outfit change. It was no where. My anxiety level was a little high because that particular pair of earrings was an anniversary gift from DW.
Erin: “Don’t worry, I’m sure it will show up somewhere.”
Me: “Yeah, sure, like it’s going to just appear out of no where now!”
Reluctantly we gave up the search. I slipped on a pair of yoga pants and an old hoodie. Then I unhooked my bra and slid it off through the arm holes. We were done for the day. Downstairs we put in a load of laundry, picked up the kitchen counter and started unloading the dishwasher. Just as I bent over to take out a dish, an earring plopped out of my hoodie and hit the floor with a loud THUD.
Me: “Oh my goodness! My earring just fell out of my boob!”
Apparently it had fallen into my bra and then under my right breast and the force of gravity kept it tightly close to my skin. (Gotta love aging, and post nursing, saggy cleavage.) When I bent over, the earring was released.
Erin: “Could you shake out the other boob too? I think I’m missing a $20.”