I have more wardrobe malfunctions than Janet Jackson at the Super Bowl. Earlier this year, I was walking to a date and made the fatal mistake of taking too long a stride while wearing a pencil skirt. The modest slit in the front of the skirt, split from it’s natural resting place just above the knee and shot up to mid-thigh. I think it might have given my date the wrong impression.
I once got out of my car, in true unladylike fashion (having never had the benefit of formal car egress protocol à la Meghan Markle), while wearing a sheath dress. When I got to my desk, I realized that the slit in the back had run all the way up to the bottom of my butt cheeks.
Most recently, I was preparing to host a lunch and learn at a local architectural firm. I was lugging a heavy box of supplies to showcase during my presentation and their office didn’t have an elevator. As I squatted down to pick up my box, as to lift with the legs and not the back, I heard a loud rip. I looked down at my crotch, and there they were, my underwear, on display for the world to see.
Luckily, I’m alone in this stairwell. I sneak up the stairs and into their office boardroom unseen. I put down my box and lay out the lunch catering from Mad Radish in relative privacy. I scurry back down the stairs to collect my wheeled dolly that I’d left behind. When I get back to the top of the stairs, I’m greeted by a full length mirror. I take the opportunity to assess the severity of my situation. Yes, the crotch of my dress pants are flapping open – If I stand with my legs together, maybe I can get away unnoticed.
Oh, but wait, what is that light breeze I feel tickling my derriere? I turn around and see in my reflection that things are much worse than I’d previously appreciated. There has been a CATASTROPHIC failure of the most integral seam of my pants. The thread has given way from the base of my zipper, all the way back to the top of the yoke at the back.
Well, now what? Again I scamper back into the boardroom unobserved. I finish setting up my presentation and laying out the catering. I call out to the office that I’m ready. Like some kind of debutante, I greet everyone and shake their hands from a seated position.
Before I begin, I announce, “So, I just want you to know that I’ll be remaining seated for the duration of this presentation because I have quite literally ripped my pants IN HALF on my way up the stairs.” The group breaks into peels of laughter and are gratefully, very understanding about the whole ordeal. Upon leaving, one of the architects lends me their jacket to tie around my waist so I might make it back to my car without flashing half of Elgin Street.
All this to say, maybe I have no business wearing pencil skirts or eating five servings of this pasta. But you can’t keep me down. I will persist in the face of adversity and thin threads.
This pasta is everything fresh and seasonal that you want to consume at this time of year. Really, the carbs are just a vessel for the vegetables, so I’m going to call it even. Ribbons of fresh zucchini, juicy cherry tomatoes, sweet corn, flavourful herbs and mountains of goat cheese make this dish utterly irresistible.
I brought my leftovers for lunch yesterday and had three full servings, I couldn’t stop myself. My coworker came into my office when I was eating second lunch (like a Hobbit) at 3 p.m. and said it smelled so good, it was making her hungry. I would have offered to share but didn’t want to risk forfeiting any of my future delight in eating it again for dinner.
One thing is for sure, this pasta is worth risking future wardrobe malfunctions for. Do you have any embarrassing clothing failures to share? Feel free to make me feel better about myself in the comments below.
In a medium bowl, combine olive oil, balsamic vinegar, garlic, lemon zest and juice, basil, oregano, crushed red pepper flakes, and a pinch each of salt and pepper. Add the zucchini, cherry tomatoes, and corn and toss to combine.