It was short.  It was low cut.  It was ever-so slightly slinky.

It was the opening gala for the Newport Film Festival and the dress code was “a little bit dressy.”

Seriously, when can you go wrong with a little black dress?  It always looks classy and simple and suitable for almost every occasion.  I had a beautiful one from Ann Taylor in the closet.  Just grab a pair of black heels, some sparkly (fake) jewelry, and slip into that dress.  No problem.

… No problem until I went to slip into my Something Most Comfortable: namely, my pump.

Most often, I don’t have problems wearing a dress and the pump at the same time.  Usually I tuck the pump safely between my … in my bra and that’s the end of it.  Or I utilize the thigh thingie that straps around my leg and has a little sleeve for the pump.

This dress, however, was too low cut to hide my pump discreetly in my bra and the damn thigh holster wasn’t cutting it.  (I think the velcro in that foolish thing is clogged up and is un-velcro-y now.  Damn it.)

I debated forging forward with the bra attempt and started planning answers:  “Yes, it’s very nice to meet you.  I loved your film.  Um, yes.  I was born half robot but I usually don’t speak of that to strangers,” or “I’m actually taping this conversation with my boobs,” or “I, too, enjoy injecting hormones.  Seriously.  I’m hooked.”

I couldn’t do that.  Besides, the little peeking loop of tubing clashed with my necklace.

I tried to set the pump in the waistband of my underwear, but that proved to be both nearly impossible and completely visible under the form fitting bodice of the dress.

Damn it, damn it.

I had no long acting insulin at the house.  I didn’t want to disconnect and be forced to test and piggy-back boluses all night long.  I wanted to wear the pump and get on with it.

The Solution?:  I rigged up a little contraption using the clip on straps to a convertible bra (thank you, Oh Secrets of Victoria), the case from the thigh holster, and the tiniest piece of duct tape.

The pump stayed put.  The film party patrons were none the wiser.

And MacGyver’s got nothing on me.

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