Oops.

Everybody's had something really embarrassing happen to them at some point in their lives, right? If anyone says that they haven't, they're either extremely lucky or lying through their teeth, or, just maybe, they don't embarrass easily.
I have had an embarrassing moment.
Akay, I've had quite a few embarrassing moments, but I don't have time to list them all.
The most embarrassing moment wasn't when I went spleepwalking out of a flat I was staying at stark naked at 3am, neither was it when I walked into a lamppost while I had my nose in a map as (apart from the two police officers) there wasn't anyone else around to witness the moments, same as when I nearly left the house minus a skirt.
A really embarrassing time was when I was going out to meet some friends for a night out. It was a gorgeous summer's evening and I'd dressed up in a lovely, floaty white cotton number that really did need the incredibly strappy, high-heeled sandals to finish the ensemble.
I set off to meet my friends with a jaunty spring in my step, and to my delight a couple of rather nice looking chaps on the other side of the road kept glancing in my direction. When I caught their glances they smiled at me and I smiled back for a second, and next I knew there was some pretty decent flirting going on as we walked along the road.
Until the moment when I caught both heels in cracks in the pavement and fell flat on my face.
I did the only sensible thing and stayed where I was hidden by a parked car and pretended I was looking for something in my handbag until they'd gone.
But that wasn't the most embarrassing time, oh no.
There was an occasion when I had to deliver some papers to the local police station which is closed to the public which means you have to ring a bell to attract attention.
Said bell is at the top of a small flight of stairs leading up from a pavement which is right on the main thoroughfare in Hanwell.
It was another lovely summer's day and I'd decided to wear one of my favourite long skirts. The embarrassment occurred when a police officer opened the door and a gust of wind caught the skirt, and swirled it up around my shoulders to reveal a seriously embarrassing pair of knickers* to not just the police officer, but everybody that was stuck at the traffic lights which included two, full bus loads of people. I can still hear the parping of car horns to this day.
But that's not the most embarrassing moment in my life.
Quite a few moons ago I was going out for a thing called a 'date'.
I'd decided to wear a really gorgeous new dress which was red, short and strapless, and although tight enough to stay up on it's own, not so tight I couldn't breathe. To accessorize I wore some rather snazzy, red kitten heels and a black bolero top. I thought I was looking pretty darn hot, and judging by the looks of some male passers-by, they reckoned I did too.
I'd arranged to meet my date up in London which meant I had to travel via the Underground and I settled down on the train with a book to pass the time.
The carriage was nice and peaceful until a woman with three small brats children got on and sat down in the seats next to me. I tried my best not to join in as the anklebiters started fighting and screaming, and only glowered threateningly at them when they got too close and bounced on me. One little shit tot in particular decided to get engrossed with something on the seat right next to me and I was about to 'accidentally' hit it with my elbow when the mother called it off and made it sit in the pram.
A short time later they got off the train again and the journey continued in peace once more. At last I arrived at my stop and I got out of the station as fast as I could as I am not over keen on being stuck on London Transport, especially the Underground bits.
I'd got to where I was due to meet the chap when I realized something was rather amiss. I couldn't put my finger on what was wrong, but I felt decidedly different from when I'd got on the train. Something was somehow... looser.
At last, the chap arrived and I went to give him a hello hug which was when everything went wrong and I realized what had happened.
The little shit that had been on the seat next to me had not been playing with the seat, oh no. The little bastard had been tugging at a loose thread on my dress which meant that as I put my arms out to greet the date, my dress slid down about six inches, just enough to reveal the lack of bra.
The look on the chap's face was priceless as I grabbed at the dress and tried to pull the bolero top closed and luckily I caught the fabric before the entire thing hit the ground.
After the date stopped laughing I managed to explain what had happened and I paid a very swift visit to the nearest public convenience armed with a rapidly purchased packet of safety pins.
The rest of the date was rather stilted as every now and then the chap would look at my cleavage and burst into fits of barely suppressed giggles.
I didn't see him again as I just couldn't face him after that, and I thank all known gods that that happened in the days before CCTV.

*Think Bridget Jones style, but with a hole in the back. The only reason I was wearing them was because the rest of my underwear was in the wash.