Monday, 11 April 2011

My (half) naked ambition!

Smiling, I twirled in front of the mirror. The skirt was a perfect fit. Black lace billowed out around me like a mini meringue. Best of all there were no rolls of fat cascading over the waist, and the ballerina style hid my jelly belly under metres of tulle.

'I'll get it,' I thought, triumphant. It wasn't just that it was only £25. In this skirt, I felt smaller than my size 16 without going on a diet or wearing Spanx pants.

But as I slipped out of the skirt, I realised why it was so comfortable. It had an elasticated waist.
I hadn't worn one of those since having my baby two-and-a-half years before. Though thanks to my love of rioja wine and ricotta and spinach cannelloni my bump is now bigger than when I was pregnant.

'Oh well, no one will know,' I thought. 'I'll make sure I wear a top that covers the elasticated waist.' And at least I wouldn't have to worry about my new favourite outfit being too tight after a massive blow out.

So I paid for it and hung it in my wardrobe, ready for its first outing. Less than a week later, I was asked to try out for some freelance work at Sky magazine.

'I need something impressive to wear,' I wailed. Working among so many high-powered men and high-heeled women meant I needed to look smart and steely.

Then I remembered my ballerina skirt. 'That's perfect,' I thought, mentally accessorising it with a black top, giant jewellery and ankle boots.

So I felt super-charged as I marched through the publishing room on my first day, ready to rub (padded) shoulders with media executives. My skirt swished as I strode past the rows of desks towards the Head of Publishing.

I smiled, confident that for once I looked more like a serious journalist than a slummy mummy.
And then – as if in slow motion – I felt a draft and gasped as the elastic in my waistband pinged and my brand new skirt slid to the floor, exposing my giant Bridget Jones-style pants.

My cheeks burned. 'Oh no,' I shrieked as the entire room fell silent and everyone stopped to stare. I wanted to cry, or throw myself out of the nearest window in shame.

But I did what any self-respecting woman standing half-naked in a room full of 50 strangers with her tight gusset hanging out would do. I bent down, picked up my skirt, and gave my biggest grin.

'I'm here about the job,' I said, to a gob-smacked secretary. And do you know what – I got it! I didn't know if it was out of sympathy or because I was game for a laugh, but at least I styled it out. I also learnt a valuable lesson – always carry a safety pin in case I become a fashion disasterista!


  1. That has completely made my Monday morning! Thank you.

  2. Oh that's just brilliant!! I imagine it wasn't particularly funny for you at the time but you handled it so graciously, I'm not surprised they gave you the job!

    CJ xx

  3. Thank you for this story. Safety pins save lives :-) Glad you got the job. I've been a hiring manager before, and anyone who can keep going after that gets a second look (no pun intended) just for being gutsy.

    Maureen O'Danu

  4. Haha! At least you just carried on as normal.

  5. ha ha that's a brilliant story (to read obviously, not so much to experience :))

  6. Oh my goodness, that was hilarious, I am glad you got the job. Thanks for sharing.

  7. OMG I was waiting for the bit that you say..then I woke up... Fair play to you and well done on getting the job.