FAILURE TO ATTIRE

Gentle Readers,

I am fascinated by a sign on the door of my credit union: Proper Attire Is Required Inside The Building.

So the question is, what constitutes improper attire?

Such a sign makes me want to push the limits and see just how far I can go before I arrive at improper attire. Would it require a complete or nearly complete lack of attire?

During my most recent visit to the credit union, I was waiting to gain access to my safety deposit box when a young man strutted past me with his jeans tightly belted below his rear end so his pale grey boxers billowed in his self-created breeze. I've seen plenty of guys with their pants slung low, brightly colored boxers peeking out, but the tight belt below the butt was a new experience for me.

What if I belted my jeans very tightly below my buns while wearing a short top so that my pink granny panties waved hello to all viewers?

I can just imagine the comments: Lord Gawd, shee-it, look at that ole' gal, she must be senile.

Or perhaps some kind older woman would tap me on the shoulder and whisper, Sweetie, you forgot to pull your pants up.

I have on occasion managed to tuck my skirt into the back of my undies.

But proper attire is required only inside the building. What if I stand just outside the front door bare-butt nekked? How long would it take for someone to ask me to leave? Perhaps the guard on duty at the front desk would be given this task.

They'd have to wake him up first. When last I arrived, he had nodded off and didn't open his sleepy eyes to stretch and yawn until I had been there for about 20 minutes.

For some reason all this talk of wear and tear reminds me of an old Livingston (brother of James) Taylor song: Jacques, Jacques, Jacques Cousteau, how low, how low, will you go?

Or something like that. How low will I go?

Here's to pushing the limits.

Infinities of love,

Lola