Ello puppets!
This evening Adrian and I embark on our belated honeymoon and jet off to Costa Rica. Luckily I had the day off to finish packing and get our apartment in order. My to-do list included packing the essentials (cookies, gummies, my air plane pillow, ipad, etc.), having a nice relaxing breakfast and potentially getting my nails done.
Well that went to shit.
Nanny Kitty, my 80 year old stunner Bubbie, always lectured me with, "Before you leave the house, put your makeup on, do your hair and make sure you are wearing a bra because you never know who you will meet."For the most part, I listened and primped myself in the morning to look like a lady and make Bubbie proud. However, I have noticed that since being with Adrian my primping has decreased, my clothes are anything made out of elastic and the concept of a bra is foreign to me.
This morning we put our suitcases in the car before Adrian headed to work and I headed back to bed to watch, "What Not to Wear" praying that one of my friends would nominate me and I could get free clothes. As normal, I kissed my hubby goodbye and went my merry way.
While shopping at the grocery store, picking up a few snacks for the flight, I realized I did not have my house keys. I had my car keys and my wallet but that was it. I did not even have my cell phone which was usually glued to my hand.
Panic ensued. Yes the suitcases were in the car but our passports, ipad, cameras, phones, money, Cosmo--those things were in the house.
To relate everything back to my above bubbie comment, I was dressed in PJ bottoms that had holes, an old t-shirt, boy flip-flops and of course no underwear or bra. I also had a mop of hair mess on my head and probably smelled. I left my house a wreck and now my apartment had evicted me due to lack of style and primp. Homeless people were more styling than me at the moment.
I dashed back to our apartment and banged on our super's door, Alec the Polish super, but he was not there. To further add to the problems of the day, Adrian and I don't know any of our neighbors, we only know Alec. So one very lucky neighbor was about to meet me in all my bra-less glory.
I thought about which neighbor to bother. The apartment right next door has a large Korean family living in it who had seen me before but I was pretty sure their English would be a challenge. Down the hall, lived an Indian family but they always gave me dirty looks in the elevator. I settled on the apartment directly across from ours because I knew they had a baby, looked normal, and the husband/father rocked a Man U soccer jersey often. Winners!
I banged on the door to which neighbor told me, "I don't answer for strangers." Good start, I must have looked worse than I thought. I knocked again and said I was her neighbor from 3A to which she said, "I don't care about the ASPCA." Right, she might be deaf. Lastly, I yelped that I was locked outside my apartment, and finally she opened the door.
My lovely neighbor was a pretty young woman who instantly greeted me with a warm smile and a bottle of Poland Spring water. Her baby, a 6 month year old boy, was the cutest baby ever and kept me calm with his smile. She let me use her phone to call Adrian. Ten tries later he did not answer. Next I called my Mom who unfortunately gets these types of frantic calls often, and had her reach out to Adrian to tell him I was on my way and would meet him at his work.
My lovely neighbor let me leave my grocery bag of Frosted Flakes and chips in her apartment while I rescued my keys.
Riding the subway is usually uneventful. Riding the subway while rocking no bra and looking smelly is not something I advise others to do. Somehow I convinced two subway riders to let me use their cells, both gave me the gross 'you stink face', to call Adrian. He did not pick up either.
By the time I got to Adrian's work I was sweating, my boobs hurt from being unsupported and flying about while I sprinted through the NYC streets, and I had a blister on my foot from my effing flip-flops. The icing on the cake is that Adrian works at a fashion label so the people he works with are very well put together. Their clothes are impeccable, their hair always blown out and beautiful and their makeup natural but flawless. It is like a Covergirl ad in there. And here I was in sweats, boobs hanging to the floor and smelling like a subway. Great impression. At least no lecture from Adrian but I am sure that will come later.
I returned to our apartment and stopped by my lovely neighbor's house in which she not only returned my groceries BUT also gave me a stack of Cosmo and Vogue magazines that she finished; she might be the nicest neighbor ever!!
All in all an annoying morning but I learned my lesson. Even if I think I am just stepping outside for a second, I at least need to fasten a bra and maybe roll on a bit of deodorant. Bubbie was right and I will be sleeping in my bra from now on....bye bye National Geographic boobs and hello support!
