The skirt only cost 50 cents at a yard sale some years back. It is a bright combination of turquoise, white and copper-color with black accents in a southwestern desert motif. Many yards of material are gathered on its wide, elastic waistband and an even fuller ruffle swirls around the bottom of the skirt.
It looked like it was made for dancing. I paid the half dollar and took it home. Over the years, topped with a plain white knit blouse, it has been the perfect outfit for our weekend outings to public dances. The fullness of the skirt flares out like an air-filled sail as we swing and swirl in various dance steps.
There is, however, a hidden danger I had never even considered. Several weeks ago, dancing at a neighboring RV Park, I visited the ladies’ room at the break between music sets. We had chosen seats on the opposite side of the dance floor from the restrooms. The lights were high and the dancers were clustered around in small groups resting and visiting with friends.
I walked across the dance floor – clumsily as usual – reached my seat and sat down. But something was wrong! I felt the cold plastic of the seat of the chair against the backs of my bare thighs! I was trying to unobtrusively solve this mystery when a lady – a perfect stranger I had never seen before – approached me. She didn’t even introduce herself; she just came very close to my ear and whispered, "Your skirt is caught in the elastic of your panties!"
I had walked nonchalantly across the width of the dance floor, under bright lights and within view of dozens of other dancers, with the back of my ruffled skirt tucked into my underwear! What a sight I must have made, with the backs of my bare legs and my underpants revealed for all to see!
I thanked her profusely. I was able – rather inconspicuously – to rearrange my outfit to a more decent position. Then I made a hasty return to the ladies’ room to fix the problem. I shall be eternally grateful for that stranger who was kind enough to save me from further embarrassment!