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There is this lovely little contraption called Compression Pants. The theory behind compression pants is that you experience less muscle fatigue because there’s limited jiggle (HAH). Lower rates of over use injuries because of that minimized jiggle thing. I’d really like to know what that is because it’s been decades since I’ve experienced minimized jiggle. But I digress. More efficient use of your muscles. Because, you guessed it, jiggle-free.

As I’ve been trying to get used to the saddle on my bike, my sister assured me that a pair of compression pants would help greatly because all the, ahem….bits….that come in contact with the saddle won’t be slippin’ and slidin’ about.

So I began my search for compression shorts.

Now, I’ve learned a thing or two about trying on anything compression-related in a store dressing room. I had a near disastrous experience with a full body spanx-type contraption when I was preparing for Michelle’s wedding. It was not pretty, and I almost didn’t make it out of the dressing room alive. I was trapped with that device wedged firmly around my shoulders, arms flailing helpless above my head. Lesson learned! I was certainly not going to have someone drag in the jaws of life to release me from a pair of compression pants at the local bike shop. Nope. No. Not a chance.

So I headed to Am@zon.

I love that place. I’ve never had a bad experience with them. Need to send something back? No problem. Need to get something in a hurry? No problem. Need to find the most obscure item in virtually any category? Easy peasy. I knew it would have what I needed.

I find exactly what I need. Black shorts with cool green designs. Length perfect. Check out the size chart. 5’10” 210 pounds. Just at the edge of the L sizes!! Um, I don’t think so! I haven’t bought a L in anything for (not to belabor how old I am, but) decades! To be on the safe side I ordered an XL. They arrived three weeks ago, but it’s been too cold to even think about shorts.

Tonight I tried them on.

*sigh*

You know when they say a picture is worth a thousand words? Well, I’m getting close to a thousand words, so why don’t I just show you how accurate the size chart is:

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You saw it here first, Folks!

Compression pants!

The do not lie about the “compression” part of its name. It is spot on. It compresses every bit of fat around my midsection and shoots it straight out the top. This is me sucking it in! Yup! I am sucking it in because if I don’t, you know what happens? I’ll tell you! The waist band goes, “DUDE, even though I’m Compression, I can’t hang on to all o’ that!” And then THWAP! Down it rolls!

And now I can’t breathe!

And I’m in my bathroom trying to untangle my underwear from my compression pants because those scary pants didn’t leave me with the dignity of thwapping down to my hips by themselves. No, they did not. They took everything in its path.

Also, you’re welcome! I could have taken a picture at THAT stage.

As I struggled to get the damned things off, Mack stands in the doorway, head cocked to one side whimpering. He’s a whiny dog. So whiny. But…different topic!

Nowhere in the directions does it indicate that I will work up a sweat trying to release myself from the product. I want to say “false advertising” but I can’t. They DID compress. Just like the box said. Just like I intended them to. Just…not like they did.

Back to square one.

Compression pantsless.

Compression is a problem!

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