So, I selected a cute, black and white polka-dot shirt to wear to class today. It's got kind of a ruffle-y front and is a button-down shirt, with these little black buttons that look like the candy I used to eat off the strips of paper (dot candy -- is that what it's called?) when I was a kid. There's nothing out of the ordinary with this shirt, and I really like it (as some friends can attest, I am fond of polka-dots), but I want you to keep the above details in mind because this fairly innocuous shirt got rebellious with me today.
This afternoon, I am in my second, and last, class of the day and I'm teaching my little heart out. I don't know if I made a grand gesture, if I happened to turn abruptly, or if I took an unusually deep breath, but all of a sudden I heard the little clatter of plastic on the floor and I feel a breeze in my shirt. Looking down, I discover one of those cute, black buttons on the floor before me. Now, if fate were kind to me, that button would've popped off the shirt someone near my belly button or at the very top near my throat. But fate is not kind, people; no, fate is wicked.
That button was the one holding my busty self in.
So, there I am in front of 25 students (an almost equal mixture of male and female) and my bra, and what the bra contains, is on display for the whole room. All I could do was blush, laugh, and try to conceal my breasts by holding the two pieces of rebel fabric together. One student suggested stapling the shirt back together, and I did consider it, when a resourceful student came to my rescue with a safety pin she had in her purse. I was able to pin up the embarrassing peek-a-boo show, and I resumed the rest of class.
That resourceful student? She gets an "A."