Janet, It could have happened to anyone girl.

I was back stage putting my pasties on at a burlesque show a few months ago. I'm going to confess right now I'm cheap, I'll do anything to save a buck. I was attempting to re-use my pasties. Those puppies are $12!! I had a great plan to get them back on my ta-tas. I covered the black hearts I had used a month before with an amazing pink glitter spray, they looked great with the little pink polka dots in my bloomers.

I bought some duct tape at the same craft store where I got the pink glitter. I would put a square of nude duct tape directly over my nipples and then super glue the pasties to the back to the tape. It made perfect sense. Removal should be a breeze.

Well duct tape isn't as adhesive as one might think… it's great at holding two flaps of a cardboard box together, but human flesh...not so much. By the 3rd go around of trying to get the tape to stick, I had yanked off much that pesky, nicely moisturized skin, and now the tape was staying put. So, I slathered the backside of the pasties with super glue and pushed it to my boob. It was slipping and sliding like wrestling in baby oil.

I quickly realized the super glue and back side of the duct tape where having a chemical reaction and were never meant to be introduced. The super glue was now getting dangerously close to the edge of the tape. My life was about to become seriously complicated if it touched my skin.

I feverishly asked for help from the other women back stage, many who perform in the show every month. This was only my 2nd time. They had huge magical tackle boxes filled with everything you could possibly need to get stage ready, but none of them were very eager to help a sista out. We were after all competing for the winners spot. Which is just that. You win. By audience applause. No cash prize. No bar tab.

With my tail between my legs, I explained to the woman running the show that night, what had happened and that didn't have anything to cover my girls with. She very generously shared her nipple glue. Ahhhh nipple glue, who even knew it existed?? It's generally used to re-fasten the tassel type pasties on again and not the self adhesive kind. (see, you learn something new every day) It made due. My nipples stayed covered.

I think in what was supposed to be a glorious reveal that fateful night.. Janet's fell off.

Mom. Please don't read this.

My mother called me one weekend while I was staying at my father's. You know how that whole thing goes, parents split, and you suddenly only belong to your dad 2 days a week. She was calling to notify me that I had not heeded her warning to clean my room and now she was going to do it for me. I know, I know... I'd kill to have someone clean my place for me nowadays...but I turned white and was in a complete panic on the other end of the phone. I had something very secret hidden in my room and when she found them, I was going to be in deep trouble.

So young and innocent, the 11 year old me asks, "Mom, Please stay out of my underwear drawer" (believing without a doubt, she will completely respect the boundaries I have just laid) what the hell was I thinking? When I returned home that evening she was fired up, holding a few different sized balls which were essentially a pair of tights stuffed with socks and "days of the week" underwear.

What the hell is this!?!?!? She asks.
I was defeated. She had found what I was humping like a little dog in heat most nights when the lights went out. Quickly, I answered," it was just a fun way for me to store my belongings."(There was no IKEA then) And miraculously she bought it. She told me to stop stretching my tights out or she was gonna knock me out and that was pretty much the end of it. And so I hope today, by me simply asking her not to read this she will never know what those balls where actually for. But my god!!! What if she does actually read this...

Where are your REAL pants?

Nothing says "I don't give a flying fuck" as to when you step out of your house and into public in your pajama pants. I wish they came with a security tag, much like if you were on house arrest. Once you go past your mailbox, they light on fire. If you are standing on the front lawn letting Bono take his morning pee, that's completely acceptable. But, if said dog darts after a stray cat and runs half way down the block, I'm sorry, but I think you should run inside and change.

The ridiculous sleeping moons or mugs with swirling steam were never meant to be seen under the fluorescent lights of the grocery store. Even the more dignified paisley or plaid prints still scream "I am in my pajamas."
It proves you couldn't be bothered to slip on a pair of jeans that you didn't sleep in last night.

There is a laundry detergent commercial where the lady is going on and on about how she wears her yoga pants for everything - hiking, biking, Pilates. And then, her friend interjects with an eye roll, and the yoga pants wearer confesses, "Okay. I wear yoga pants because I'm too lazy for real pants."

My God. What a travesty.
Let's put a little effort into being all you can be, people. Let's wear real pants!