This Oven WAS NOT Full of Lovin'

I was a naive teenager.

I'll admit it.

I was the girl that thought that when Madonna sang Like a Virgin, she was talking about the Virgin Mary. 

I was the girl that had no idea what Frankie was really talking about when he sang Relax . . . Don't Do It, When You Wanna Come.

Yep.

That was me.

So when I had my first job at a local pizza place, I suspected nothing amiss.  I eagerly swallowed the story that the only size work shirt that the shop had left for me was an extra small.  I readily believed my boss and his son as he handed over my uniform, and I left feeling great that I would start my new job the next Friday evening.

A new job and free pizza?  Seriously, what more could a teenager want?

Apparently,  I could have taken the lead from The Wizard of Oz's scarecrow and wished for a brain.
Because I certainly wasn't using my brain when I showed up for my shift wearing my way too small t-shirt uniform with the words Luv'n Oven emblazoned across my boobs.

Naive?

Yes.

Clueless?

Most definitely.

The bright side?

I made loads of tips that I am now sure were not because of my smile.



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