Wardrobe Malfunction

Raise your hand if you remember this historical wardrobe malfunction that occurred during the half-time show of Superbowl XXXVIII!  (Bonus points are involved if you can tell me what number XXXVIII is...I've absolutely no idea.)

Cute, sassy dress

A couple of weekends ago, I was involved in my very own derrierre wardrobe malfunction.  It involved a cute, sassy dress (purchased from Plato's Closet, because I'm a tight-ass) with a back zipper that decided to revolt right when I needed it most.  Maybe not as epic as Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake's um...situation...but at the time the badonk malfunction happened, the only thing I wanted to do was crawl in a hole and not come out until either 1) my malfunction was fixed, or 2) copious amounts of wine had been consumed.  #2 ended up being the winner.

I was attending a wedding of two very good friends, with a bunch of other very good friends (aka. college reunion, aka. see #2 above).  The devilishly handsome man I married had to work this particular weekend, which turned out to be a blessing.  If he would've had to suffer through the badonk malfunction, I would've died of embarrassment even more than I already did...is that even possible?!

Anyway, back to the back zipper horridness.  I'd just met up with my brother who was filling in as my +1 for the evening since hubby could't make it.  Bro-ha is a college student in the town where the wedding took place; I figured he'd enjoy a free meal during the reception, being a poor college kid and all.  Little did he know, a full moon was on the menu!  We had just walked allllll the way across the reception hall (read: in front of EVERYONE) to reach our seats when my good friend Mer tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Hey Jen, your dress is gapping in the back."  I was all "Oh, ok.  I'll fix it here in a bit."  That's when I felt the breeze.  That's when I felt the huge gaping hole.  That's when I felt the bare skin of the upper portion of my derrierre showing off it's glowing self to THE ENTIRE ROOM.  That's also when I wanted to crawl in that previously mentioned hole.

Franken-dress

My poor, poor, potentially traumatized brother was such a sweetie; volunteering to get me a plate of food and a glass of wine.  My girlfriends jumped into action, pinning where they could, boosting
 my tattered self-esteem, oh yeah, and more wine was involved.  In the end (bahahaha!) one of the gal's at a neighboring table switched sweaters with me (mine was one of those short, cropped types; hers was long and flow-ey).

Not even Instagram could make this prettier!

What in the world would we do without sweet, fabulous, kick-ass girlfriends??  Have a LOT worse wardrobe malfunctions, that's for sure! ;)