What About Slob?

I've come to the painful conclusion that I am a real slob. I guess I always knew that, but last night it was forecfully driven home. I had received an invitation to a reception at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. But, no one told me that all the elite of Richmond would be there.
Here I was in the midst of so many tuxedos and bow ties, and I have on this hideous checkered suit. I sort of looked like a 21st century Pinky Lee. Not to mention that my Walmart shoes squeak with every step I take.
But anyway, I do have a tie on, so I'm thinking maybe I don't look too bad. I'm not quite down to the Columbo level yet. And then I look down and the hem has come out of one of my pants legs, and the material is hanging down under my shoe. Talk about making a fashion statement.
I used to have those dreams when I was younger, you know the ones where you're standing in a crowd in your underwear, and nobody has noticed yet, but you know the next move you make and everyone is going to see you. Well, that's how I felt last night.
But even before last night, I've known I was a slob. I've even come to work with two different shoes. And, I don't know how many times, I'll look down and one of my socks will have a big hold in it. I keep a felt marker with me to color any flesh that shows through the holes.
I also have a tendency to put my socks on with the heels on the top. You'd think after all these years, I'd think to check that before I get out in public. But, nope, not me. I seem to never learn (or remember the past humiliations).
And, I haven't even touched on my ties yet. I wish I had one tie that didn't have some sort of food or coffee stain on it. I drop so much food on my ties, that I've started hanging them in the refrigerator.
Well, that's my confession for today. I wish I was more fashionable, but, I've come to accept me for who I am. And, despite my disheveled look, I'm not such a bad party guest. Just don't invite me anywhere today. My zipper just broke.