The skirt I wore today has been hiding a terrible secret. Don't be fooled by its cute, innocent nature. It may be pure cotton, but it is not pure goodness.

It pains me to tell you this, but . . . my skirt is a wind slut.

Yes, it's true. I walked outside today fully expecting the boys to whistle and the girls to scowl as I pranced about in a rather decent outfit I pulled together two minutes before leaving. Instead, the wind whistled, and I scowled. Up went my skirt in a fit of glee, full of life and love and air. The wind winked and flirted, and my skirt broke up with gravity then and there. Such unruly behavior has not been seen since the days of Marilyn Monroe.

That being said, I would like to apologize to anyone who may have seen me outdoors today—any neighbors awake at 8:45am this morning, any tweenage children who attend the middle school next door to the church, any church members who were near the building at 9am or 5pm or 8pm, and any fellow patrons of T.G.I.Friday's tonight. Normally, I try to keep the Rachel and the skirts together, seeing as that's worked very well for me in the past (offline and online). I am so very sorry on behalf of my coy and fickle skirt. There will be punishment, and it will involve a hot iron. Maybe even a sewing needle or ten.