On this particular day, it was beautiful weather. I'd walked to work and had a pretty good day once inside the office; I met my deadlines, had a few genius ideas. And as the day closed not even the commute home on British Rail could dampen my mood - hop skippety jump.
As I arrived back at Waterloo, safe to say it was heaving - the world's masses heading back to suburbia. Mood still shining but realities of life were making themselves felt - I really needed a pee but didn't have 20p to use the Ladies. Not to be deterred, instant brainwave - nip upstairs in Burger King and use their facilities - voila! A free pee - could life get any better?! Now loos in fast food restaurants are not normally my favourite hangout - the ones in Waterloo are designed specifically to ensure people only use them as an absolute last resort. The game is, get in there - attend to business - and get the hell out without touching anything - even standing on your tippy toes to minimise surface contact. Mission achieved I had a few minutes to saunter casually over to the platform.
Nothing could dampen my mood; oh yeah baby I was on a roll. I walked out of the loos upstairs and down through the restaurant out onto the platform. Life was good, I was living the 20-something dream, I smiled at people and "worked that walk" through the crowded station and onto the crowded platform. I calculated if I wanted a seat I should work my way as far as possible along the platform....
I was about 2/3rds of the way down when a sweet, elderly lady approached me. I instantly stopped, social kindness oozing out of every pore as to how I would help this wonderful woman whereupon she politely informed me that I had my skirt wedged right up into the top of my knickers....
Well sweet lord and mother of all things merciful. If I could, in that moment, I would have happily thrown myself under the oncoming train or at the very least emigrated to a commune in Istanbul. I had gone from as happy and perky as a Pharrell Williams track when I only saw good and positive in the world to a very, very bad place to be as reality hit me. I did wonder why everyone was smiling at me as I had strode through the packed Burger King, heaving station and crowded platform - I just thought it was a case of smile and the world will smile with you - well apparently the whole world did.
If that woman had never told me, I would have carried on in such a positive mood, I may have found a seat on the train, sat down and things may have naturally re-arranged themselves leaving me permanently ignorant but genuinely happy in my day. In fact, nothing factual changed whatsoever in that split moment between before I knew my indiscretion and afterwards... other than the knowledge the entire world had seen my Marks and Spencer's big-girl pants covering an arse that really should have seen the inside of a gym more often.
It wasn't supposed to happen anymore - I was a together woman, in control who had all the answers (in addition to my large, well publicised backside) This is the nightmare of teen years, first dates, awkward puberty. However the difference this time is that I wasn't 15. So what did I actually do? The only thing possible at that time - I styled it out as best I could. Without batting an eyelid, I whipped down the back of my skirt, flashed this woman a dashing smiled, thanked her as is she had simply given me a free newspaper and carried on my way - back straight, head held high and sunglasses firmly covering my eyes.
So whilst I don't recommend displaying your best M&S tidy whities to a large subsection of South East commuters, I did learn that no matter how old you are, or how grown up you think you are, these things will continue to happen. I will probably continue to slip, trip, fall, spill, break, snot sneeze, break wind and have clothing failure at the most horrific timing possible. But , unlike the 13-year old me, the world won't end, I can rectify the situation, hold my head high and keep my dignity. I can laugh about it afterwards with friends and quietly cringe inwardly when I think no one is looking.
But more than anything, when my beautiful girlies become those mortified, excruciatingly embarrassed, massively sensitive teenagers, I can rest assured that my own memories of such feelings still burn bright within me and instead of scolding and telling them to grow up, I will be able to look on sympathetically and offer a tub of reassuring Ben and Jerry's - 2 spoons. And being able to relate to them, to show them no matter how awful they think something is that their mother has done alot worse, is why I will never regret bearing my ass to Waterloo...
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