Not trying to rip off (no pants pun intended) Laurie Notaro or anything, but I once had an exploding pants incident.

I was in the backseat of my friend’s car as she drove me and another friend to complete an errand of hers. I don’t know what maneuver occurred between my thighs as I got out of the car, but it created a horrifying sound, one that humbled me instantly. My jeans ripped and I couldn’t figure out exactly from where, but I knew it started somewhere between the bottom of my right butt cheek and ended above the knee, and what was worse, I was too far from home to save myself from the wardrobe malfunction.

Both of these friends were roommates at the time, so when we got back to their place, I searched through the closet of the friend whom I figured might have a pair of jeans into which I could fit. Alas, they did not and I had to just deal with my own unfortunate pair. To add to my sense of humiliation, we were waiting on a visit from a friend, a GUY friend, on whom I had a crush at the time. I figured, as long as I stay in this chair and don’t move for the rest of the night, I’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine. I’ll go home at some point and bury my face into my pillows and scream.

He showed up and I waved hi from the chair. Everyone else got up to say hello and hug. I refused to make any movements across the room that would angle me out in such a way that my back would face him, or anyone, as I returned to my seat.

This is starting to feel like those mini-mortification stories I used to read in YM magazine where young girls would share about the time a tampon string was showing out of their bikini bottoms or something like, falling into a fountain at the mall in front of cute guys.

It’s something like that, but at least there’s a lesson here.

After that night, our guy friend pointed it out to me that he felt I was being a jerk with him. He said I wasn’t being friendly and that I seemed to be avoiding him. I realized that I could have just said something that night like, “Hi! I’m gonna just sit here because my thighs kind of destroyed my cheap jeans.” Instead, I let insecurity get the best of me and I didn’t even stop to think about how it would be perceived by other people in the room. I did finally admit to him that I was trying my best not to move around anywhere because there was a huge rip somewhere under my butt and that I didn’t want anyone to find out that I don’t shave above the knee (unless it’s a special occasion, you guys).

I know, I’m exaggerating about my pants exploding, but it’s what my imagination caused me to believe had happened. My own insecurity made me think there was some kind of devastation happening below the belt and I made it out to be a huge thing when in reality it was a snafu involving zero casualties.

We’ve all had these mini moments of unnecessary embarrassment and anxiety, but some of us learn to overcome the moment with a great sense of humor and confidence. It would be FUN if you would share here your own little story. It’ll be just like when we read them in our favorite teen magazines. Let’s all feel better right now.