Accidentally exposing myself never gets any easier.

You’d think after I’d flashed all of southern Spain, or been photographed semi-topless by a stranger next to MLK, or groped myself sitting in an Indian restauran, or exposed myself to an entire wedding I would have come to grips with my clothes propensity to showcase my body to all around.

You’d be wrong.

(And the length of those examples is concerning to myself as well.)

For yesterday, I went out at lunch.

Not to eat lunch, mind you, but to frantically drive to see Molly (pictured above) and stand outside in the biting wind yelling at her to pee.

She never did pee, which makes the futility of my lunchtime escapade all the sadder.

I’d left my office and already traversed the upstairs hallway and the stairs and the atrium and was halfway down the driveway to the parking lot when I heard the front door of the building open.

I turned to see our receptionist running out behind me and he stuttered to a stop and said “Megan, uhhh.”

Though he hadn’t come up with a way to phrase his news, I somehow instinctively deduced his meaning and reached behind me to pull my dress out of my underwear.

As I tried to process the embarrassment of having just flashed my entire office, I managed to force out “thank you so much.”

“You were going out, so…” he replied.

Which is sweet, though raises the worrisome question of whether, if I’d been having lunch in the break room, he’d have let my dress in underwear fashion statement go un-referenced.

Either way, none of this would have happened had I not given into my mom’s constant requests that I wear underwear, so it’s hard not to blame Haines for my newly acquired need to enter and leave my office through the side door.