For the love of all that is holy, sometimes it’s a pain to be a woman.

Perhaps I should clarify. Sometimes it’s a pain to be a VAIN woman!

I have made no secrets about my battle with my bulge and the frustrations that go along with that. Having a wedding come up in SIX DAYS just might (perhaps) have my knickers in a wad. I bought a beautiful dress for the wedding. My husband went with me when we were shopping for it and when I walked out of the dressing room he said it was pretty and once I “put on those things to suck in my rolls” it would look awesome.

Yeh.

That happened.

And he’s still alive, so…

I had my dress. New shoes. New bra and panties. All that was missing was “those things to suck in my rolls.” And yesterday was the day to find something suitable. If I was braver, I’d have taken pictures of the battle in the dressing room, but I’m not, and you’ll live. You’ll actually probably be grateful.

I to the store to try and find some fabulous underpinnings. I picked out a couple of sizes and styles. First off was a jumpsuit type thing. I have this weird issue where I hate feeling my thighs rub together so I like to have something covering them. So the jumpsuit was the logical choice. I picked the first one with the recommended size based on my dress size.

Bend.

Stretch.

Pull.

Strain.

Nope. Could not get it over my thighs.

*sigh*

Tried the next size up. Squirmed my way into it and adjusted.

Spanx Bodysuit

This is not me!!! Notice the thigh gap. That’s the dead giveaway right there!

As I stood there looking in the mirror, feeling very satisfied that I had accomplished the feat of getting the blasted thing on, it occurred to me that I would be in my dress for hours and would most likely need to go to the bathroom at some point during the day. I mentally went through the process of having to practically disrobe in order to take a basic leak. I knew that there was no way a designer would leave no simple way to relieve oneself so I began investigating.

As it turns out you don’t have to disrobe. Oh, no! Not at all. There is an opening. Yup! About two inches long. I would like to know in what universe a woman could pee without drenching herself in that setup! Not to go into too much detail, but JUST NO!

And then it occurred to me that they expect you to wear this thing panti-less! That would be a DOUBLE JUST NO!! Momma does not go commando. Ever. For any reason! Especially with a set up like this. It seems like the little flap that you would apparently have to hold open as you took a leak (and god forbid you have to do anything more than a leak) would flippity flap into uncomfortable places. I am just not sure what the designer of this contraption was thinking.

Plan B. Moving onward to try on the second style. Technically, that would be plan C because Plan B was squirming my way out of the death trap that I’d forced myself into.

Plan C – the Dress Style. This would certainly work out a lot better. There were snaps at the bottom. And do you know how I know? It’s because I looked before I put it on!

Spanx-1-Slim-Congnito

 

Ah, yes. Putting it on! My first though – a logical one, I assure you – was to step into it. Again with the hips! Dude! These hips are no joke! It was CLEAR that the dress style wouldn’t go over the hips. So, up and over the head and shoulders. Yeh. There I stood in the dressing room with my arms above my head and this contraption snapped tight around my shoulders. I could neither get it up to relieve myself of it, nor could I get it down and over my shoulders to see if it would work. So there I stood. In the dressing room. Being slowly strangled by a piece of “those things to suck in my rolls.” I could probably muster up a cry for help, but the attendant was about 80 years old and I knew without any doubts that she lacked the strength or height to assist. And the last thing I wanted to hear was a voice over the loudspeakers, “Sven, to dressing room B with the jaws of life. STAT!” Then I thought about my hair. Yes, my hair. I was going to have to get into whatever torture device I purchased with my wedding hairdo.

After a few more minutes of standing there with my arms in the air and this stupid, stupid piece of shit tightly wrapped around my shoulders I began giggling. I leaned forward hoping it would move my shoulders into a better position for me to get a good grip on it and yank it off. Didn’t work. I stood up straight, folded my left arm over so I could try and pull it with my right arm. Didn’t work. My right shoulder is a little buggered up and pulling is what causes me pain. I tried folding my right arm over and grabbed it with my left arm. And it budged! Ever so slightly. But it was movement. So I leaned way over to the direction I was pulling (not sure why, it just seemed like a good idea at the time). With one final heave, I pulled it off and over my head. And there I stood, rolls hanging out all over the place, staring in the mirror wondering if it was all worth it.

I slowly get dressed. Walked out of the dressing room. Bought a donut. And left!

Fuck it!

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