Remember when your parents told you to always wear clean underwear? In case you got hit by a car or something (in that case, your undies probably wouldn’t be clean after the fact anyway/insurance pays out more if you soil yourself). Well, as it was early Sunday AM, I was cooking (for fathers day), in a tshirt. As it was early Sunday AM I was not brassier-ed. As I was slicing perfect little celery slices with my brand new OXO  brand mandolin, I took off about a quarter of my finger above the top knuckle.

My mind saw it happen about 2 seconds before it did. So either Im psychic or the bar exam has created the deepest sense of self-loathing to ever cross my mind. Anyway SLICE. Fingers bleed. A lot. Dark oozy blood. Because I panicked, I grabbed my phone and called my dad, interrupting his father’s day golf round. Per his instructions, I drove myself to the ER (per his instructions I also went to sleep off a major concussion 12 years ago). He left his golf game to meet me there. 

It was then I realized that I was without my modesty. Boobs akimbo. The only thing worse than seeing a good portion of my nail and my finger nestled in a bowl of celery that day, was the thought that my father might possibly see me without a bra.