A few weeks ago, while transporting Seth to a birthday party, I thought, “Hey, its been a few weeks since I’ve last felt humiliated. Yeay Me!”

You know what I’m about to say here, don’t cha.

We arrived at the birthday party with me thinking we were late. Turns out, Seth and I were there 25 minutes early. Once I realized this, I apologized profusely to the birthday girl’s parents for infringing on their prep time. The mom of the birthday girl was very sweet and gracious. She said it wasn’t a big deal that we were early. But I wanted to crawl under some chairs or the closest rock I could find.

But this was nothing compared to what I did later on.

As the guests arrived — we moms and dads sat on the floor talking. (This wasn’t a house party. It was hosted at a kid’s fitness facility.) While listening to a fellow mom, I looked back and realized there was a rectangular mirror about (2 ft x 16 in) in back of me on the wall. But it wasn’t where you’d normally put a mirror. It was located an inch from the floor. At this point, I remembered how I had on low-slung jeans. And how, because I had no clean underwear, I was going commando. I glanced over my shoulder toward the mirror. My t-shirt had been riding up my back as I sat there. A gap in the waist of my jeans exposed something no one should ever have to see — two inches of my asscrack.

I then realized that the dad of the birthday girl and another guy were situated catty-corner to me. Odds are they got an eye full of the only kind of “cleavage” I possess. These poor women probably did too.

Words can not describe how horrified and humiliated I am. Now if I had the hot body of Seth’s swim teacher? It wouldn’t have been all that bad. But no. I have a “baby got some SERIOUS back” butt that hasn’t seen the inside of a gym — or the sun for that matter — in a long, long time. Think JLo with 15 extra pounds, on a diet comprised of ice cream and ding dongs, three years after she’s fired her personal trainer.

What sucks is that I see these people quite often as our kids are all friends. Now, every time they see my face, are they are going to think of my ass crack? And then will they throw up a little in their mouths? Or maybe they’ll try to find a horse to kick them in the head in hopes of getting that mental picture out of their mind?

I emerged from that experience a bit wiser. I realized two things: 1.) I need to expend more effort to ensure I always have clean underwear 2.) that the scorned “mom jeans” have a definite place and need in not only society’s wardrobe but mine as well. And maybe, just maybe, I need to respect the “classics”.