Overexposed, Take 2

Apparently, it is not enough to bare one's breasts in front of an autistic child, his mother, and a professor. No. That is not humbling enough. That does not make one blush enough.

Apparently, it is necessary to continue to have embarrassing breast-baring episodes until all dignity is lost, and "blush" becomes the permanant color of one's face.

Last night, Daniel and I were going on a date. Daniel took Dillon to my parents' house for hours of college football games and a photo session. I was getting ready at home, and the last thing I needed to do was use my bicycle horns so that we could have 3-4 hours of freedom.

I was getting ready to pump, and realized I had forgotten the bottles that attach to the bicycle horns. I went to the kitchen, wearing just my bra and pants. I was standing in front of the kitchen window, that faces into our carport, when I saw a movement outside. I glanced up, and who was in the carport but our 14-year-old neighbor boy. He waved sweetly, and then, saw the look of horror on my face. He then realized what he was looking at. Did I mention that the bra I wore was a nursing bra, and that the flaps were down???

GREEAAAAAT.

Neighbor-boy knocked on the door. I sprinted to the bathroom to get my robe, then sprinted back to answer his knock. I won't tell you what word I was saying during my mad dash through the house, but it does rhyme with "fit" or "mitt."

By the time I got to the door, neighbor-boy was bright red and his hands were shaking. He tried to pretend that nothing had happened, and continued on his mission of requesting Daniel's shoe polish kit. I dutifully got it for him and he explained that he was on his way to the Homecoming Dance.

An innocent freshman boy. On his way to one of his first big dates. I wonder if I have scarred him for life. I told Daniel that we have to sell the house and move. Or at least get some curtains.