Boob Gate 2010

My boobs are huge. Prior to being pregnant, my boobs were BIG, but not ridiculously massive. I could still race in a swim suit if I wanted to. However, going from a 36 D to a 38 F (as in What The F!) is not exactly taking too kindly to me.

Pull up a chair, and let me illustrate what has now become Boob Gate 2010.

Yesterday morning I got work feeling less frazzled than normal, mostly because I looked cute. I was wearing this super cute green dress, and a black one button cardigan. It's so comfy. However, the tube top part has started to become a little snug. No big deal though. Here's what I think I looked like.

Cute, right? Well, I thought it was a darling outfit.

I had a 9am appointment with a potentional new lifeguard. She's young, and impresssionable. Just the way I like them- makes them easy to train. What's this got to do with Boob Gate 2010? Please, stay with me.

We hold the interview in my office. It's got a long L shape desk that sits up against a window overlooking my pool.

See? Here's my chair, and the chair the interviewee was in. The interview went well, but about halfway through she seemed to get really nervous. Like, Really nervous. And she stopped looking at me. What is with teenagers that makes them all of sudden get weird? I thought maybe it had something to do with my discussing what a tight ship we run, and how I have a zero tolerance for a lot of things. We also discussed appearance and professionalism. That's really important to me, as I put (way too) much emphasis on how I look, as that's how people percieve you.

She was all fine and dandy, but a little weird averting eye contact. Maybe she had a short attention span. Regardless, things went well, I told her I was intrested in having her on my staff. In conclusion, I stood up to shake her hand and thank her for coming in. That's when I turned to my left to look out at my pool.

That's an old picture of my office. I now have a dry erase board on the outside that also acts as a mirror of sorts for me. As I was looking out at my guard, I realized, through the reflection of my window-mirror, I now looked like this:

That's right, ya'll. My super super cute little green tube dress betrayed me, my cardigan, and giant nude colored nursing bra.

The Girls Were Out. The tube part had slide down to right underneath my bra. I hadn't felt a thing.

All of my right boob, and pretty much all of the left. Out. Actually, they weren't entirely alone. You see, I was leaning forward for most of the interview, with my gut hanging... and the Girls just sitting on top.

So, here I am, talking to the new hire about the Christian principles of the YMCA, and I have my tee-tas in her face, three feet away.

Stunned, I pulled my top up and stood there, looking away. I finally turned back towards her, and apologized. I AM SO SORRY. I DID NOT KNOW.

She then says, "I was going to say something but I thought it would be rude."

Ooookay. Let's go back to young and impressionable. If I were interviewing a 30-something, she would have said "Sorry, your top is down." I could have pulled it up and continued. No, teeny bopped Tina didn't have the balls to say to her potential new boss "Ma'am, your tits are out." I politely suggested that it might be rude NOT to tell someone the milk jugs are swinging freely.

I'm going to skip the second interview and send her to training. I don't really want to see her again until I feel less like a flasher.

Awesome.