Death by Shapewear

Alright y’all.   As you may have read eons ago I’m making 2013 THE YEAR for my corrupted ass to get fit and healthy.  So, after a few false starts I’m full steam ahead with a healthy diet and daily exercise plan.  There’s just one caveat.  Recently I ventured out to do a little spring wardrobe shopping.  Now, mind you, I know I’m going to plummet in size shortly so I didn’t really want to spend a ton of money on size 12 clothing when we all know I’ll be a size 8 shortly…well maybe a 10, but you get the point.  I decided to invest in a little shapewear during the interim.  Just a little something to keep my jiggly bits from doing just that.  You know, while I wait for them to become ABS OF STEEL.

I picked a camisole looking piece that seemed like the right choice.  My butt and thighs are fine, it’s just my poochy belly so I thought this seemed like a good place to start.  I grabbed a dressing room and decided to give is a whirl.  Now mind you, this thing is supposed to be tight so I picked a smaller size than I normally would because that’s the whole point, right?

Well.

I pulled the thing on over my head and started putting my arms through it while trying to pull it down over my boobs/belly.  Notsomuch.  This thing was like a sausage casing. It was so damn tight I could barely pull my elbows down around my head.  My arms were kind of stuck up in the air with the piece wrapped around my head and neck.  This didn’t seem right.  I fought with it a little more and got it down under my chin and around my middle.  I immediately realized that this thing was waaaaaaaaaay too small.  No biggie, I thought, I’ll take it off and go back out and make another selection.

It wasn’t that easy.  As soon as I tried to lift it back over my head I realized I was in trouble.  This thing was wrapped around me like a starved Boa Constrictor.  I heaved and pulled and stretched, all to no avail.  By now I had one boob up under my chin and one pointing due south towards my belly.  The more I struggled with it the more panicky I got.  I was grunting and groaning and starting to hyperventilate.  My eyes were bulging out of my head.  My hair was flying around with static electricity and I could feel the perspiration forming on my top lip.  My heart beat quickened at the thought that they just may have to call the Fire Department to cut me out of this evil garment.  I had to sit down on the little bench in the dressing room to catch my breath.  It was half on and half off but it had me in a death grip.  As I flailed about the room some more the tag landed square in front of my face where the instructions read that I was supposed to step into this thing feet first, like a bathing suit and take it off the same damn way.  Evidently it was not to go over your head in the first place.   This little tidbit would have been good to know fifteen minutes ago.

I finally wriggled free after what seemed like an eternity.  As I huffed and puffed and put my shirt back on I realized that anything has got to be easier than that, including exercise.  I left the mangled thing on the bench, all tangled up and stained with my deodorant.  Serves it right.  You know how you tap the biscuits in the can on your counter top and the dough puffs out through cardboard creases?   That’s exactly how I looked.

Tonight’s dinner?  Salad with a side of salad and salad for dessert.  Jesus.

One thought on “Death by Shapewear

  1. Bwahahaha!!! I like to think my jiggly bits will eventually be a plus should I ever take up belly dancing!!

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