I’m mortified. Mortified.
I’m curled up in a ball with my hands over my face re-living what happened last night. And it’s all because of a pair of nipples.
Men, get over the nipples. Seriously.
But damn, I’m a good wife.
Two key pieces of information you need to know to understand how this all unraveled.
- Sunday morning – I went to my cousin’s baby shower. My aunt requested I turn on my camera phone flash because she wanted more light on the baby shower cake. I forgot to turn the flash back to my regular “off” position.
- Sunday evening – I went to a friend’s house to help address save-the-dates. I was just finishing up when I said I had to get dinner for my family at the nearby fast food restaurant. Amber told me not to go to that particular place. “Don’t feed your children food from there. Trust me.” Not wanting to feed my children roach legs, I opted for the fast food place closer to my house.
I drove to my side of town. It was dark. I blasted the music. I had the sunroof open. I was high on life.
I pull up to the fast food place and order. I pull up to the window.
That will be $10.45
Here you go. (I hand her my card and she faced the cash register)
Whoa. What? NIPPLES. Why doesn’t she have a bra on? The nipples are at her belly button. Scott needs to see this. Seriously. I’m like the best wife ever. He’s lucky I’m in a good mood. He would appreciate a good nipple picture, even if they do brush the cash drawer at her waist. Where’s my phone…
I pick up my phone and click the side button to mute the camera noise.
I double check to make sure the employee is preoccupied. I hold the phone up towards the window.
Oh God!! Oh God!!! Flash! NO! OH NO! THE FLASH!
I drop the phone into my lap. My camera captures my face.
Did you just try to take a picture of me?
I stare at my lap. I do not make eye contact with her.
Uh. What. I, uh. I don’t know what happened. My finger must of hit. Um, I don’t know.
You tried to take a picture of me. Here’s your food.
Um, uh. Thanks.
My tires squeal out of the parking lot. My car goes flying out into the street towards our house. I come to a stop light. I call Scott.
Let me talk to your dad.
He wants to know what you want.
I need to talk to him.
He said to tell me.
I can’t. Put daddy on the phone.
Daddy! Mommy won’t tell me what she needs!
Scott. I’m going straight to hell.
I went through the drive thru and the employee didn’t have a bra on. Scott. Her nipples. Like BING! And they were hanging low. Hitting the cash drawer. I tried to take a picture for you and MY FLASH GOES OFF.
(laughing) Wait, her nipples were hanging out of her shirt?
No wait. Scott. It’s worse. Then she asked me if I tried to take a picture of her! It was so obvious what I was doing. The damn flash went off in her face. I’m terrible. Oh my gosh, it’s hot in here.
(laughing) ARE YOU SERIOUS?
(laughing) Scott. Help me. I can’t drive. I’m so embarrassed. She knows my name and credit card number. I’m on a hit list.
Fast food places use a 3rd party to keep that information. You’re not on a hit list.
I’m number one on the list to hell. I just wanted to show you some nipples. That’s it. Nipples. That weren’t mine.
Did you keep your eyes on the food? Did she EVER walk away to get your food. This is important.
I don’t know. I think she had the food. I just keep seeing her nipples in my head. And then my flash. I’m blinded! OH MY GOD. MY FLASH.
I can’t send you anywhere to get food!
I’m almost home. I need to text my friends when I get home. Bye.