My birthday always brings me back to this moment. I was in my early twenties, teaching in IL, having big fun in my life. It was my birthday, and my girlfriends and I were going out to a decent restaurant for dinner. I remember I wore a fairly new teal colored angora sweater, and I was drinking an apricot stone sour. How fancy!
It was all such fun, until somebody surprised me with a cake. They set the rectangular cake in front of me, all aglow with twenty-some candles. My face flushed, partly from the apricot stone sour, and partly because attention was being drawn to me in a public place. Everyone sang Happy Birthday, and I blew out the candles.
My friends and I always had a lot of fun, and there was always a lot of laughter. But shortly after blowing out the candles, I realized that there was way more laughter than our usual shenanigans would yield. I looked around, and everyone was looking at me, chortling uncontrollably. I looked down and realized the source of the giggling fits.
In my exuberance to get all the candles blown out, I apparently had leaned my then ample bosom into the cake. Yes, my teal angora sweater had white frosting pasties. And the cake had two perfectly boob-shaped divots. In public. In a nice restaurant. Filled with strangers. Nowhere to hide.
The rest is fuzzy, but I know I slinked off to the restroom to try and recover. I’m sure that this wasn’t quite as memorable to my friends as it was to me, but somewhere there are photos. I’m also sure that several folks just trying to have a nice dinner were provided with way more entertainment than they had bargained for. My face still flushes just thinking about it! And ever since, I have been very careful of my posture while candle snuffing.