02/26/18

You Do You

How I Saved Myself From A Sweaty Situation

By: The Reverend Cynthia A. Frado

I am a parish minister. Long ago, when I was an Associate Minister, I was responsible for all the non-member weddings at church. Our meetinghouse was beautiful and coveted by brides, so in the summertime we tended to have quite a few nuptials.

On this particular hot, humid, dripping-sweat kind of August day, I arrived at church in a dress, pantyhose (expected in those days), slip, bra and bikini panties. When I parked my car and walked about 20 feet into the parish house, I looked like I had just stepped out of the shower. The wedding coordinator took one look at me and burst out laughing. My hair was drenched. My clothes were drenched. My shoes were wet. The worst part was I was going to have to put on my black clergy robe for the ceremony.

We already knew that the meetinghouse was going to be an oven at full capacity, and there wasn’t any air conditioning or a single fan to be found. I decided right then and there that I was going to die in the middle of their vows. My wedding coordinator insisted that I would survive, but made the bold suggestion that I strip down to my undies and just wear my robe as a cover-up. No one will know the difference, she exclaimed! They won’t even notice that you’re not wearing hose.

Needless to say, I was mortified by her suggestion, convinced that the entire congregation would have X-ray eyes. It didn’t take very long for me to reconsider her idea, however, and I ran into the ladies room and struggled to peel off my clothes. When I came out in my robe, sans all other outer accoutrements, we both laughed at my secret.

When I walked over to the meetinghouse as the guests started arriving, I realized that I wasn’t wearing my belt to hold the transmitter for the lavaliere mic which was essential to use. The only thing that I could attach it to was my bikini underwear. The cord was long enough to reach the tab of the zipper when it was completely zipped, so I ran it under my robe and was able to attach the mic clip to the tab. Perfect! By now, the temperature in the building was in the high 90’s, and all I wanted to do was get this couple married and out of there!

As luck would have it, the sun was shining through the side window to the exact spot where I was standing. Sweat began pouring off of me like a faucet. It was even running down my legs which made it look like I was peeing myself! I didn’t think that matters could get worse, but I was wrong. About halfway through the ceremony, I started to notice that the transmitter attached to my bikini underwear was starting to slide down my thigh! To make matters worse (I’m sure you can see this coming) the cord became tort and I could feel the mic that was attached to the zipper pull start to slowly unzip my robe. PANIC ensued! So, I did the only two things that I could do: I put my knees together to stop the transmitter from going past them (which meant I crouched lower), and then I started to talk as fast as I could! The wedding coordinator was standing in the back of the church and was giving me a puzzled look until it dawned on her what happening! She started laughing hysterically with her hand over her mouth. Needless to say, I didn’t appreciate her mirth as I stood there in front of 150 people, all of whom I was about to flash like a stripper in Vegas!

Faster and faster I talked. Blessedly, I sent the couple on their merry way with their entourage of bridesmaids, groomsmen, and flower people. I just stood there crouched over instead of following them out, as per what we had rehearsed the night before. Finally the postlude finished and the wedding coordinator and music director walked down the aisle toward me, laughing merrily. They both knew that my mic was live and that I wasn’t able to respond to their funny remarks. The problem was that I couldn’t reach the transmitter without unzipping my robe entirely. Eventually, when the last of the guests had left the building, I was able to waddle around, unzip my robe, remove my portable sound system, and restore my dignity.

That was twenty years ago, and that was the last time I wore bikini underwear. Every time I put on a lavaliere mic, it makes me laugh, it makes me leak, and I shutter!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Rev. Cynthia A. Frado is a semi-retired Unitarian Universalist minister.  She is a graduate of Boston College and Harvard University.  Rev. Cindy has been a hospital chaplain, parish minister, clinical hypnotherapist, Reiki practitioner, and works in other healing modalities.  She is also a Psychic Medium!  Laughter has often been her medicine of choice, and when her six grandchildren engage her in a giggle-fest, you can be sure that she is grateful that she is wearing her Icons!
 

share this article



you might also like

Sweat Isn't Worth Sweating Over

A love letter to your bod's central A/C.

How I Learned To Lean On Other New Mothers

A lesson in first-time motherhood and matrescence.

On Female Rage: The Moment My Anger Made Me Proud

Acknowledging that we get *pissed* can be uncomfortable, but one woman learned that, sometimes, her temper is her greatest asset.

Unpacking My Choice To Not Have Kids

I didn’t have children. And I don’t regret it.

How I Learned That My Bladder Gets Tired, Too

The Fast and Furious ...minus the illegal street racing and crazy heists, but plus the sprints to the restroom.

How Cooking Helped Me Peel Away Self-Doubt

"Rejection had me questioning my sanity..."

How I Saved Myself From A Sweaty Situation

"Sweat began pouring off of me like a faucet. It was even running down my legs which made it look like I was peeing myself!"

Why You Should Please Yourself on Valentine's Day ❤️

Don't ever be ashamed of showing yourself love.

When Motherhood Didn't Match My Picturesque Pregnancy

There isn't an Instagram filter glowy enough to hide the realities of being a mom.

Grieving My Grandmother Through Gifts She Left Behind

Her love is everywhere.

Why I Never Went Camping with My Husband Again

When you gotta go in the wild, not even the fear of a bear can get in your way.

Lessons in Bravery and Batwings

"What’s wrong with skipping through the f*cking sprinklers?"

DIY Crafts for the Non-Pinterest Pro

You won't buy overpriced soaps and candles again.

The Sisterhood of the Bar Bathroom

Sol-dar-i-pee is ageless. 💦

A Nurse's Gushing Ode to Her Job

There are priceless perks to loving your work.

Southernmost Exposure

This brave woman didn't let a full bladder dampen her Florida Keys adventure.

Dear Sheilah: On (Mom)umental (Mom)ents

When the *mothership* hits the fan, Sheilah's got answers.

Can Changing Your Footwear Change Your Mood?

The great Crocs debate.

Dear Sheilah: On Painful Politics

When partisan issues become parental pain points.

Meet Our Models

Our (pee-proof) underwear models aren't new to disrupting the status quo. 

New Year, New Pelvic Floor Gear! 🎉

Self-care splurges to lessen your urges.

Dear Sheilah: On Saving Moolah

You can't spend what you don't see. 💰

Dear Sheilah: On Grooming

Hate haircuts? Procrastinate pedicures? Forgo facials?

Dear Sheilah: Wanderlust, Cheating & The Language of Love

"I was brainwashed into this whole 'marriage' thing. I was Betty Crocker with a joint."

Dear Sheilah: On Self-Sabotage, Raising Daughters & Callings

"...but then I remembered I had hidden a Magic Mushroom."

Dear Sheilah: On Hindsight, Granny Mistresses, and Superpowers

Sheilah flips the script by giving advice to her 25 year-old self.

Dear Sheilah: The Good, The Bad & The Healthy

Alright stop, collaborate, and listen. Sheilah's back w/ a brand new edition.

Dear Sheilah: On Guilt, Anxiety & Excitement

Golden showers of wisdom from a non-certified advice giver.

Bra lala lala!: A Roundtable Discussion on Bras

Over the shoulder bolder holder: oppressive tit-sling or breast friend?

Introducing: Dear Sheilah

If Dear Abby looked like a Real Housewife and toked up like Cheech and Chong. 

My Body Can

An homage to our weird and wonderful bods.

Pickin' Up Good Vibes - Postpartum Intimacy

With only 5 days left in May, our National Masturbation Month post is a real buzzer beater (heh).

A Fresh-Faced Feminist - Feminism & Plastic Surgery

Never look a gift horse in the mouth. Even when it's your mother.

Self-Care as a Single Mom

In the midst of all the hustling, self-care is salvation.

Get Your Freak On

I wanted to be pumped up when push literally came to shove and I was expelling a human out of my vagina.