Bootie floss*

School is back in session. Volunteer opportunities abound. As I am running off to fill one of these volunteer roles, I share with you a flashback from last year ...
*****
First day of school! I’ve got on my new lululemon pants on, and am trying to feel confident in them. My niece, Kelsey, turned me onto these pants. They are super-stretchy-fitted pants that are ultracomfortable ... but look much better on a college co-ed than on somebody who has already passed prime childbearing age, like myself. But I was enjoying a day at the mall with two of my nieces, and they emboldened me to buy them. Kelsey was working at Nordstrom for the summer, and had clearly mastered the art of making people feel good when they are trying on clothes. Even when it is an older woman squeezing into stretchy pants. Although there was no commission involved (since I was not shopping at Nordy’s), I let myself be seduced by her flattery and my desire to buy something new.

I filled out the mountain of forms that have to be turned in every year on the first day of school, made the lunches, directed the kids to get dressed and ready for school, took a picture of them leaving the house, and walked them up the hill to school. I have managed to get them here on time without ranting to myself (as I am known to do on school days), and I am pretty proud of all of us. The bell rings, and all the parents scurry about, releasing their kids into the waiting arms of their teachers, ready to fill their brains with learning -- and then we all scatter, finally free to run errands and be ourselves for a few hours before that bell rings again.

I chit chat with a few of the parents, and am on my way. I am feeling pretty good in my lululemons, in spite of the not-as-comfortable “foundation garments” that are required with these pants. Given the stretchy nature of the fabric, I was mildly dismayed to find that none of my standard hipster undies looked right under my ubercomfortable pants. I had to resort to the underwear of teenaged and twenty-something girls -- the thong, a.k.a. “bootie floss.” I have resorted to the floss today, so that I don’t have unsightly panty line to worry about, in addition to “muffin top” and “camel toe.” Now, I am not a thong-virgin. But I wear them infrequently enough that I have to dig through my drawer to find them. I unearth one in standard black lycra, which I have a vague memory of wearing sometime in 2005. Everything settles into place, and I’m feeling good. The muffin top is crowning a bit, but that can’t be helped; I am more concerned about keeping the camel’s toes from exposing themselves, and self-consciously tug my lulus downward at my thighs. There. Much better.

After taking care of business at the bank, I decide to treat myself for getting the kids off to school with a Decaf Tall Mocha with Whip and a Toffee Bar. (Nutritious eating is not my strong suit, and has lead to the muffin topping mentioned above.) Before I order, I make a stop in the restroom, where I notice a seam from my underwear making an unsightly line on the front of my right hip. Perturbed that I would be sacrificing comfort to erase lines off my rear only to have a lumpy hip, I peer into the mirror and decide that maybe I just need to shift the seam to the side, since my floss must be off-center somehow. Then, I notice that the seam seems to be on my right side only. Huh, very strange. I don’t wear one often, but I do not remember them being asymmetrical. And why does this thong have this cotton interfacing on the side seam? Huh.

Oh. OH. Oh, nooo way. I have definitely got some kind of situation goin’ on. I am laughing at myself but trying not to laugh out loud, so I sound like I am mildly asthmatic, and am hoping that nobody overhears me gasping and squeaking in the bathroom. No wonder the thong didn’t seem to give me much coverage in the front when I put them on this morning! In my rush to get clothed before taking the kids to school, I put my bootie floss on ... sideways. I continue to struggle to stifle my laughter -- as I think about the dorkiness of my middle-aged being -- since I’m sure people would think it odd that I am going into hysterics in the Starbucks bathroom.

Now that I have realized my wardrobe blunder, I am faced with a dilemma: leave the floss stretched across my cheeks, or place it between them, where it belongs. Hmmm. I decide that I will just fall into uncontrollable jags of laughter if I do not correct the problem, so -- I quickly get bottomless, and very gracelessly get the crotch of my undies where they belong. I am hoping that there are no hidden cameras in this bathroom, installed by some psychotic pervert with a penchant for Caramel Macchiatos. He’s probably watching the tapes right now, and laughing hysterically. I’m not worried. I’m quite sure that there was nothing erotic about seeing a middle-aged woman hopping about as she tries not to let her new pants touch the bathroom floor while still wearing her running shoes and also wriggling out of her misplaced bootie floss. Now that would be fodder for YouTube.

I emerge from the bathroom, face flushed and still trying not to laugh, and tug downward on my lululemons. Camel’s toes taken care of, now it’s time for that Mocha. As I am sipping my chocolatey drink, I can’t help but think about all the advice I dole out to my kids, and how I have taught my daughter how to check for the labels in her panties so that she puts them on the right way. On this first day of school, it seems I am the one who has a lot to learn about how to dress myself. I can’t wait to tell my husband. He’ll think this is hilarious.

* I am not completely certain of the linguistic origins of the term
“bootie floss,” but I heard the term used several years ago, when I was shopping at the South Bay Galleria mall near where I grew up in L.A. The dialogue went something like this:

Two older African American women are shopping in the lingerie department.
Woman #1 says to the other (holding up a thong):
This here is some bootie floss!
Companion: (nodding, eyebrow raised) Mmmm- hmmm.
Skinny Young White Salesgirl, noticing their interest in the undergarment: Oh, that’s a thong -- it’s for when you wear a clingy sweater dress or something like that, then your underwear doesn’t show ...
Woman #1: Well, if I’m wearing underwear, I want people to know I’m wearing underwear, thank you!

Increasing my Vocabulary

I learned some new vocabulary a few days ago while I was in Japan with the kids:

kyuu kyuu sha

yuketsu

denshi moofu

-- ambulance, blood transfusion, and electric warming blanket, respectively.

I was at the local shopping center with my cousin's wife, Hiroko-san, doing some last minute shopping before our flight out the following day, and I passed out from anemia and went into shock. Although I don't remember this very clearly, Hiroko-san filled me in later, describing how I was saying to the EMT in the ambulance (in Japanese), "I don't speak Japanese," and he responded very loudly, "What are you talking about? YOU ARE SPEAKING JAPANESE RIGHT NOW." I asked him (in Japanese) to tell me the "top number" and "bottom number" of my blood pressure reading, and when he said it was something like 80 over 60, I replied (in Japanese), "Hmmm, that's low, isn't it." Once I got to the ER, my condition had worsened, and Hiroko-san was kept out of the ER, so I was really on my own. I discovered that my contextual language decoding skills are actually better than I thought they would be, which was good, since there was very limited English spoken in there. Fortunately, there was one doctor there (I suspect he was sent over because of his language skills) who had spent three years in Boston and was present when I said, "I am going to throw up right NOW." I had said it in Japanese already, but the urgency was apparently more effectively communicated in English. I think it sounded too polite in Japanese, and they were like, "Oh, a little nauseous? We'll get you some medication for that now ... just wait a minute ..." Thank goodness for Dr. Boston.

I had to be admitted to the hospital, where I learned a lot about the Japanese health care system. Also learned that Japanese nurses all speak the same way, in a cutesy voice, and will code switch into local dialect for elderly patients to make them feel more at home. Had a conversation about Bush and Christianity and Buddhism with a little old lady in the bed across the way. I didn't understand everything completely, but found it very telling that she referred to the war in Iraq as a "religious war" and how she admired President Bush for taking a stand for his country's religion, even though she thought the war was wrong. I tried to communicate that there actually was no "official" American religion, and that religious wars are considered wrong in America, but I don't think I got my point across. We both smiled politely through it all. She told me she was in the hospital "for something in English ... what's it called? Oh yeah, 'peisumeekaa' (pacemaker)."

In any case, we missed our flight and found ourselves without a way back home during the peak travel season in Japan. With my somewhat uncertain medical condition, things have been a little complicated, but my cousin somehow managed to get us on a flight back to SFO today (8.11.07). I was cleared for take-off by the doctor on Friday, and got to be escorted around in a wheelchair through the airport(s).

I definitely had more excitement than I expected, and got to experience a previously unseen Japan -- although I would not necessarily recommend putting a ride on a kyuu kyuu sha on anybody's itinerary.