Yes, I am wearing underwear

…and I look up to see that I’ve attracted a crowd, all looking at me try to lift my leg over a high obstacle, furiously trying to keep the hem of my dress below my knee, and praying that when I do flash them they don’t notice that my underwear isn’t the kind that’s worn to be seen…

Maybe I should start at the beginning.

Photo courtesy of Kris Krug via
Edited photo; original photo courtesy of Kris Krug via

I should have known something was going to go haywire. I was wearing what I call an “interview outfit” — dressed to be in front of a camera for an interview. Of course, that means I have to spend the day dressed up, from the subtle makeup to the conservative but stylish heels. It means that I’m in my costume. Through all my meetings, my dinner with my mother, driving her to her errands… through it all I’m uncomfortable. I spend my days in business casual; corporate chic is something I can do for a few hours at a time, but all day is a stretch.

My new car isn’t small. It’s as tall as the Ford Explorer I used to own. It’s spacious and roomy and a great ride. It’s not little, but it’s also not a monster truck. The truck parked a mere few inches from the driver side door was a monster truck, I realized, as my mother and I look on in dismay outside the taquería where we had had dinner. I was amazed the driver had managed to park so close without actually touching my car. And I was wondering how the frack I was going to get into the damn thing.

Did I wait until the owner of the monster truck finished and moved? No, of course I didn’t.

I had the brilliant idea that I could get into the car from the passenger side and just… shimmy my way to the driver side. Brilliant {{with sarcasm}} until your realize that the car is set up with a very high arm rest between both seats that also functions as a double-decker storage.

So I’m sitting in the passenger side, in my dress and heels, trying to position myself in such a way that I can end up in the driver’s side… without showing off all my goodies. And it occurs to me that maybe this is not a great idea.

First try was to crawl over, with my butt pointing towards the windshield. But that ended up with me sitting literally on the steering wheel without enough room to… flip into the correct position. And that was a failure on many accounts.

Then I tried positioning myself to scoot over the armrest, one leg at a time. And I look up to see the above-mentioned crowd… and my mother laughing incessantly. Which broke my concentration and made it impossible for me to succeed…

I tried a few ways, getting agitated and irritated, finally succeeding by dumping myself butt-first over the armrest into the driver-side seat. Which I consider a minor miracle.

And applause ensued. Really, applause.

How, exactly, do I get myself into these things?

Author: Paloma Cruz

Find out more about Paloma Cruz through the About page. Connect with her on Twitter ( and (Facebook).

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