Purple Tragedy

Sometimes I wonder if God sits on His throne and laughs out loud with a big belly laugh at all the gaffes His clueless children commit. We must be a great source of entertainment for Him. Thankfully, He is gracious. And so is my sister.


You may remember that my dear sister got married on Friday. It was a very small, family only affair. She wore purple. I wore purple. Everyone should wear purple. Studies have shown that while men are partial to blues and women are partial to pinks and reds, most all people like purple - the combination of those blues and reds - at least to some degree. The interior designer who decorated our office knew of this fact, and our office is based on a purple palette. She said...


Oops... I did it again. Digressing...


I wore a purple pants suit with palazzo pants and a flowy duster type jacket-y thing. It's purdy. I knew the bride wouldn't mind that her sister was wearing the same color as she, because, well, it was PURPLE. Who doesn't like looking at something in lovely lavender or violet hues, however pale or dramatic?


Digressing again...


Her dress was far lovelier than my outfit, and far smarter, I might add. After 46 years, one would think I'd know better than to try to do ANYTHING in the same league as my sister. This event proved my theory. She was radiant and beautiful in her color of royalty, and I was, well, I was there.

But I was happy


'cuz I was wearing purple.

After the ceremony, we all motored over to a family favorite, Posado's Mexican Restaurant. I was sitting next to one of my nieces at the table, and we were looking at the pictures I had taken at the wedding. Not only were they teeny, tiny on the back of my digital camera, it was also a bit dark in our corner of the restaurant. And by corner, I simply mean that she and I were in a little corner of our large table for 15. The table itself was positioned smack-dab in the middle of the traffic pattern whereby virtually every patron who needed to visit the necessary room must pass. Because details are important: Digressing.... again.....



As I was putting the camera back into the case, I heard something drop to the floor. I looked around, under the table, under Studly Man's chair, but I couldn't see anything but, um, floor. I asked my niece if she had heard anything, and she looked at me as though I was growing a second head. "Perhaps I'm imagining things," I thought to myself.


Polite banter shot back and forth across the table. The sweet young waiter, who, it turns out, knows my sister's entire family from the Christian school where she teaches and where her kids went (one still goes there), approached the table to refill the ginormous glasses of tea we had gulped down with dinner. We had moved them around, and he wasn't able to reach my glass. I reached over to hand him my glass. In stretching out my arm toward him, something unusual caught my eye. I could only hope it hadn't caught his.


I spied....


my beautiful


new


lovely


lacy


freshly


washed

BRA!


That sound I heard? It was one of the five buttons from the front of my purdy purple flowy jacket-y thing. It hit the floor... and so did my chin.

There I sat, with my back to the wall, facing the entire restaurant with a gaping opening in my purpleness and MY.BRA.SHOWING. Fortunately for me, I was sitting across from my momma who has in her lifetime seen a few bras, and from Studly who never minds seeing my bras and from my daddy who thankfully was engaged in conversation with the groom's stepfather and thus oblivious to my state of undress.

Have you ever played that game called "Gossip?" You know, the one where you whisper a sentence to the person next to you and they pass it on? I sent word to my beautifully arrayed sister whose bra was NOT showing that I needed safety pins. For the love of Pete! I'm NEVER without safety pins. Being the altogether girl she is, she said she had a couple in her van out in the parking lot.

Studly was quite the gentleman. He got her keys and went on an expedition after the safety pins while I sat clenching my purpleness. When he reappeared after a long absence, he had a very long face. His eyes met mine from the opposite end of the table. He slowly shook his head to signal no safety pins could be found.


I was doomed.


The next three years 20 minutes seemed to take forever as I waited for the bill to be settled so we could leave. All of the sudden, out of nowhere, two brilliantly beautiful, shiny silver objects appeared on the table before me. My sister, KNOWING she had safety pins in her van, had sent her 16-year-old son out to fetch them. They were right where she'd told Studly they'd be.

I discreetly made my way to the ladies room where I carefully pinned my clothing back together. Breathing a sigh of relief, I returned to the table. My sister's wedding and celebratory dinner were complete, and so was the side show. My purpleness was gaping no more.

I hope the young waiter isn't scarred for life, and I hope Studly makes an appointment to have his eyes checked soon.