Wardrobe Malfunctions IRL

The year was 2004 and two football teams, let’s call them the Patriots and Panthers, were facing off in the Super Bowl.

After a first half full of Clydesdale commercials, buffalo wings, and pretending you understood what a “first down” was, Nelly, P. Diddy, Kid Rock, Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake took the stage to give us one of the most talked about moments on live TV. As J-Tim sang, “I’ll have you naked by the end of this song”, Ms. Jackson’s bare breast was unleashed from its leather prison and thus, the “wardrobe malfunction” was born.

I sympathize with Jackson — I, too, have been there with my metaphoric (and some times literal) boob out there for all to see.

But in real life, us plebeians have no PR team to explain our embarrassments and I don’t recall Emily Post having ever written about the proper etiquette on handling nip-slips or farting at a crowded house party.

A smattering of my top life malfunctions are as follows:

A white dress

I am at my 8th grade graduation and stand up to toast my parents at the barbecue following the ceremony. Unbeknownst to me, I had just gotten my period and everyone could see. My face turned brighter red than the back of my dress.

Triangle string bikini

Sophomore year of high school, I am walking back from the beach with some friends. As I put on my sweet LL Bean backpack, one of the thin swaths of fabric betrays me, exposing my boob the entire walk home. With one headlight out, it was quite the show for that group of 15-year-old boys.

Study abroad program

In Rome, Italy, there is little else to do than eat and drink (if you forget about all those monuments and history). I took the phrase “when in Rome” to heart and consumed so much pasta, bread, pizza, wine and cheese that I gain a full 25 pounds. My thighs tore through every single pair of pants I brought with me and only did so in public.

College

My first serious “adult” relationship, my boyfriend spends the weekend at my parents house. In my childhood bed, as the dawn is breaking, so is my wind. I fart so loudly in my sleep that I wake us both up. Six months later he dumps me via email. I blame the rip.

First “real” job

I head out to lunch with my all-male coworkers. When we get to the lobby, my sensible yet fashionable work shoes give out. My broken heel fell off a good yard behind me, causing me to stumble and bruise my ego substantially. I left my colleagues laughing as I hobbled to a cab to take me to my closet.

Much like Janet Jackson, these unfortunate events left me down, not out. But this year, perhaps I can use the air Tom Brady takes out of his footballs to inflate my own confidence. This Super Bowl Sunday, take some time to reflect on your past wardrobe and life malfunctions and hope that Katy Perry’s half time show goes off without a nip-glitch. Until then, let’s hear yours in the comments below.