The Night Of Sweaty Breasts.....

Yes....the dreaded wardrobe malfunction...

And I'll get to that later.  But first, I really need to explain what I do for work.  I mean, obviously, I work in the food industry.

Dur.

But I really should elaborate.

Hmmmm....how far back should I rewind?

Fluck it.  I'll go back to when I was 16.  That's when I got my first job as a buss chick.

Nah.  Too far back.  It's a good story, but.....too far back....

Let's try 2009.  That's when I followed my future wife to Georgia and moved in with her into our married friends' garage apartment.

Soon after moving in, I got a job at Starbucks.   I worked there for a few months, but....  Anyway, I ended up leaving and taking a job as a barista for an independent coffee house, and that was awesome!

It was part-time work, and that was cool.  I pulled down minimum, but did well in the tipping department.

And no, it wasn't because I was dressed like I was in the above picture.  LOL

Anyway, the hours were fine.  My future wife was already doing well in her job and I was actually able to get on her health plan!  What a great company!

But the hours were great because I enrolled at Le Cordon Bleu in Atlanta in their Culinary Arts diploma program.

It was a small fortune, but it was worth every penny!  I had been cooking since I was five, but this place really honed my skills!  The fifteen months flew by!  Mitzie was so proud!  And my parents came in from Alabama to see me graduate!

By the way, my parents think I'm gay.  I'm not.  I'm bisexual.  But it's just easier to let my family believe that I'm that my sexual orientation is homosexual.  And they just adore Mitzie.  So do my brothers and sisters.

Okay, back to the point of this entry.

After I graduated, I decided to hang a shingle out of my own.  I didn't want to work in a restaurant.  Trust me, been there, done that.  Since the age of 16, I've worked in almost every position in the industry.  Busgirl, waitress, dishwasher, hostess, line and prep, everything but an actual head chef.

No, I wanted to work for myself.  So I became a personal chef.  So with the help of a friend and playmate, Ryan, who has been self-employed forever and a day, I learned how to set up my own business.

And that diploma got me plenty of work!  It was awesome!  I cooked for some of the most well-off families in the Atlanta area and made some great money.

And while I did that, I had a friend of a friend who hooked me up with a caterer who needed independent contractor cooks and bakers.  Between the personal chef gigs and the catering work, the money was coming in.

Of course, there is a feast-or-famine aspect to all this as well, of course.  Sometimes a ton of work would come in, sometimes not so much!

But I loved it!

And not too long after starting the catering work, I got a very lucrative gig with another caterer.  But trust me, that's a whole different entry.  But I'll get to it in a future post.

So back to that picture....

What happened?

LOL Wardrobe malfunction junction!

About a year ago, I was scheduled to pull some double-duty for a high end business party.  Many hours cooking and then I got to serve, which I enjoy.  I cook, bake, waitress, tend bar--whatever's needed.

Anyway, I got dressed and packed my serving clothes in my tote bag and threw in my brand new bra!  Yay!

As you can see in the picture above, when serving, we wear white shirts and ties.  Well, ehhhhh....you can't really tell from the pic, but those shirts can be a little too thin, if you get my drift.  My normal bras are, well, somewhat low cut in the cups and don't offer a ton of support when carrying loads of trays and all the other things food and drink service entails.

In other words, I wanted to, uh, firm up the girls.

I had washed and air dried the bra several times to break it in and had even worn it around the apartment a few times just to get it ready.

My wife was working late, so Alex was taking me to work.  After we all got back from the party, I was going to call Mitzie so she could come and pick me up.

We all spent a few hours getting the food ready and then it was time to change into my serving attire.  I took off my regular bra and put on my new bra.  I then put on my shirt, tie and skirt and shoes.

Some of the cooks left and some of the servers arrived and we piled into the van and took off.

About ten minutes, I felt a little warm.  I was sitting in the back so I discreetly slipped my hand up my shirt and my titties....they were a-sweatin'!

Fuckin' a.  The bra had too much material.  I had the dreaded breast sweats.  But I figured, hey, I won't be working in the back, I'll be serving in the nice air-conditioned hall!  The van was hot and the air wasn't working, so no biggie!

Yeah, okay.

Yeah, it was an outdoor party.  And it was a WARM June night.  And after an hour, I felt like I was going to pass out.  I was already on my back up shirt.  Luckily, everyone was sweating some, so my dripping boobies didn't get noticed.

Fuck it.  I had my buddy Tina cover for me so I could take an early break.  I went out to the van and grabbed my tote and took off the Tit Swelter Apparatus and tossed it in there.

I then went into the back prep room where Kevin was working, mixing up some punch.

"Kev, where's the bathrooms?"
"Down the hall, you'll see the signs."
"Thanks!"

I went in and opened my tote.....and couldn't find my other bra!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! 

I groaned and put the Breast Sweat Machine back on.

But I did survive.  I took every chance I could to put ice on the inside of my wrists (this works) and couple with that, frequent breast and chest wipe downs and the evening getting cooler as it wore on, and I got through it.

And later that night, after we got back to headquarters, I went into the bathroom and saw my bra hanging on the hook.

I called Mitzie and everybody started leaving.  The owner let me sit in the back room to wait for my wife and when I was alone, I took off that freaking bra and opened my shirt.

The girls were sooooooooo thankful.  Not too long after the owner left, Mitzie arrived and laughed when I told her the whole story and commemorated it with that picture that I really wanted no part of.