WARNING! Today's blog deals with women's personal issues in personal places.
You've been warned!
My mother always told me, "Suck in your stomach you look ten pounds thinner."
That was when I was 13 and sucking in my stomach did the trick. Now I'm older and believe me, a loss of ten pounds is not going to change how I look to the outside world. Besides, let's just say I have no core muscles due to childbirth, age, and a combination of my love for cheetos and my distaste for sit ups.
So, the other day I was wandering the aisles of Kohls women's department looking for that magical garment that didn't look like an old lady tent and made me look like a size twelve.Across the aisle from women's, in a cruel twist of store layout, in lingerie. And there I saw a display for SPANX and SPANX-like products.
I had to do some searching for something in my size. Those of you who read this blog know my semi annual quest for bras, so just imagine it was that, only far more shameful as I looked at sizing charts and realized that I was going to have to go to a very special sort of plus size. (Control foundation garments are, cruelly, small sized so that a 1-2x girl like me who'd like to smooth out the back fat a bit is forced to look at something in a Triple x...sort of like a porno movie, a really sad, really pathetic porno.)
I finally found a delightful sort of shorts/girdle garment in my size. I took it home, and attempted to put it on.
It became abundantly clear to me that this was going to take 1) Practice or 2) a second person...and really, I wasn't up for that kind of shame. So I put the garment in a drawer and forgot about it.
Four months later it's summer. And with summer comes lighter garments made out of materials that a built to be lightweight...and possibly a bit clingy. Back fat, front fat, thigh lumps, all pretty much out there in those lighter weight materials. So, I delved into the drawer and pulled out the garment and, with much sweating and a little cursing, I'm not going to lie, I managed to yank that puppy over my hips, and all the way up to the bottom hem of my bra. My gut looked liked a fat man trying to escape from a tightly wound parachute, but as I donned the light weight top I realized my back fat was smoothed a bit. And, I was excited! Unlike my literary hero, Scarlett O'Hara, I didn't need someone to get me into my foundation garment! (Also like Scarlett, I'm never going to see an 18 inch waist...or a 24 inch waist...or a 30 in waist...).Off to work I went, sucked in and smoothed out.
Quick question: Have you, ladies, ever used the bathroom while wearing one of these deals?
See, some of you are already laughing.
I typically don't break for any reason until about 11. So, as is my custom, I took out the mail, refilled my coffee cup, and then headed to the ladies' room.
Peeling that puppy off my somewhat sweaty skin wasn't too hard. I was a bit disturbed at how my gut sort of sagged down like a whale suddenly devoid of bones. As I sat there, doing my business, I looked down at the garment and realized a terrible thing:
I had to somehow put that back on.
Those of you who read this blog know I have issues when it comes to public bathrooms, and work is the worst because, really, there's no sense of decorum or delicacy where I work. I work mostly with men and Captain Nubbin is one of those socially weird guys who thinks pointing out what goes on in a bathroom, and what comes out of a bathroom is normal conversation. Every morning I have to hear him discuss the smell in the men's bathroom and then sort of mock the guy who was in there last before him...it's horrifying and I've sworn to never leave anything behind in the bathroom or do anything noisy or anything like that.
So I'm sitting there realizing I have two options: 1) I can just take the thing off and carry it out and hope I stow it in my desk before Captain Nubbin spots it and says, "WHAT YA GOT THERE? A GIRDLE?"
2) I can yank it back on.
I have advanced arthritis in my thumbs, so option two was unpleasant in a lot of ways. But not as unpleasant as option one. So, finished with my business and my dilemma, I stood, and began the long, horrible, sticky, sweaty, vulgarity laced (silently of course) struggle. After about three minutes of really hard work, I got it on and manged to escape the bathroom without comment from the ever watchful Captain Nubbin.
Have I worn it since? Not to work. I guess I'll just let my back fat hang out at work. And I'll just try being thin for church. Hubby says I shouldn't bother, God doesn't care what I wear. Yeah, but God was never a church lady. So, yeah, I'm gonna have to give this a go in church. Or maybe I'll just save it for the really important thin days, like when I go see my mother.
I hear you sister! You have to get the kind with the hooks & eyelets in the crotch. Then you don't have to peel it off. Although the kind with the legs/shorts don't have these..........
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