The Rescue and The Rip

I saved someone’s life last night. I wish I could say that this is the main story, but it’s not. The main story is that I ripped my pants when I saved his life. When I say ripped my pants, I mean right down the middle of my ass.

The Before:
The evening was planned; my girlfriends and I were going to meet, have dinner, and then watch our beloved Katya share her moving story of strength, hope and experience in front of a large audience.
I got ready. Hair, makeup, and the all too important outfit. It’s not easy to feel hot when you are fat, and so extra effort is needed to get over the ‘does my ass look fat in this.’ My butt looks big in everything. So I tried on a few different things, and finally settled for a pair of black slacks that had a little stretch to them, as well as being comfortable and not too tight. I felt good. I put on a long black blouse and a jacket with a little color, matching chartreuse scarf, boots, and away I went for an evening with the girls.

The During:
So after a dinner in which most of us talked about food and diet, we made our way to the assemblage. A lot of people, some good laughs, and then we settle in at the front of the room. Katya was introduced, and the rhythm of her talk was intoxicating. She was funny and sincere, and spoke from the heart. The room was quiet, as people were listening intently, when suddenly a man from the very back started gasping for air and clutching his chest. All eyes turned on him and people froze, except for Katya. She announced into the microphone, “someone call 911.” Instantly all 200 people took out their cell phones and began to dial. The room was eerily quiet except for the man’s wracked breathing.

The Rescue and the Rip:
Okay. Back in the day, I was trained as a paramedic. The training has come in handy over the years, as I have children and they have friends.
So in the silence of the room, I felt myself rise from my chair and march to the back of the room. I was calm, and I knew I could help him. My boots clipped on the floor, and the sound of them seemed as loud as the man’s struggle for air. Everyone watched as I shifted people out of the way and assessed the man. After a quick exam, I realized he was having an asthma attack. I knew he must have an inhaler, and asked someone to retrieve it from a bag as I lifted the man’s arms above his head.
With one fluid motion, I squatted in front of the man and placed the inhaler to his lips. That’s when it happened. The rip. I felt air rush up my ass as the material and thread gave way.
My mind went crazy. “OH MY GOD! NO WAY! YOU ARE KIDDING ME!”
I tried to focus on saving the man, but my ass was in someone’s face, and I was clearly sporting a double moon. How much had ripped? What thong had I worn? Everyone was watching, and everyone knew I had split my pants!
“FOCUS ON THE MAN” my mind screamed! I shifted my ass in an attempt to hide the now widening split. More wild thoughts went through my mind. ‘No one is looking at me, they are looking at Bill. They are not worried about my pants; they are worried about Bill dying. How self-centered could I be? What did I care if everyone saw my ass from a split? I was saving a man’s life, for crying out loud!’

The After:
At last Bill was breathing clearly, the ambulance was on the way, and the room was still strangely quiet. I looked towards the front of the room to my seat. I had to do the long walk back, with my ass hanging out and everyone looking at me. Just do it, I hissed at myself! I lifted my head, and walked with a slow pace, pulling my (thankfully) long shirt over my bottom. I took my seat. No one said anything. Within minutes, Katya picked up where she left off, and soon she had everyone laughing and distracted.
As I drove home I reviewed the night. I thought of Bill, and the life I had saved. My last thought was “If I was skinny and my pants split, I wouldn’t care who saw."