My brother-in-law is getting married 2 days after Christmas, to his girl of 4 years who I LOVE. I am so happy about this upcoming wedding! My girls are going to be the flower girls, Kevin is best man and they have asked me to do a reading. That means people are going to be looking at me. Which means, I need to wear Spanx under my dress.
I found a dress I love, and it was a real treat because it's a size 14W (the W is for Womens not Wide, like I thought for years...but really, you say tomata, I say tomato) - and I am not a 14. More like a 16. No, an 18. Why not just tell it like it is, it's like being pregnant, you can't hide it.
Unless you're like one of those "I didn't know I was pregnant" women on that TLC show. How do you NOT know you're pregnant until you're popping out a kid on a toilet?! But I digress.
So anyway, I found this beautiful dress. God blessed me, because I tried on a ton of dresses that either made me look like a tent or I couldn't zip it up. I had been trying on dresses in the "regular" section, but then had to bite my pride, and ask a salesgirl if they had a womens section (Macy's). She started to say they didn't have one, and another salesgirl butted in and said that they did, but it was small and all the way at the back of the store by the bathrooms.
That walk, through the 2nd floor of Macy's, was long. I was with my mom, and couldn't look at her for fear I would cry. Why are the fatties banned to the back of the store? Once we were there, there was a dismal selection of black, brown and blue dresses. It was like they were saying, "You are allowed to go to a funeral, but no fun for you. There is no such thing as a fat girl getting a dress to go somewhere fun. Who do you think you are?" So I walked around the few racks, and hidden in one was this champagne colored dress with some beading around the middle and a little jacket, 3 quarter sleeves...I loved it. No others like it and a size 14...but I thought, I'll just see what it looks like and maybe I can find it at another store.
It fit, my mom and I were almost jumping up and down.
So fast forward to last weekend, I head back to the mall, this time to Boscov's where I had heard their store brand of Spanx was less expensive and fit better. Because, dear friends, the last time I wore a Spanx I got a horrible rash where the fabric cut into me, and I might have torn the crotch trying to take it off.
No not might have. I tore the crotch.
I needed a new one also because with this dress I had to get the kind that had a strapless bra built in. So I start looking at them (the kind that has the bra and then goes all the way to mid thigh - it's a little scary), and realize that they're only giving the bra size...I was expecting to see L, XL, etc. So I choose my bra size and then head back, looking at this garment and wondering how on earth how it is a "one size fits all" kind of situation.
I undress, which is never pleasant...things always look worse in a department store dressing room. When will they learn that women will buy more if their lighting was better?! I suck in my breath, and start in. It took considerable maneuvering, some swearing, a prayer and I was panting by the time that thing was on. But it does the job, and I admire how my thighs are missing a few of their regular ripples, and my stomach is smoother. Ok I'll buy it.
Wait, ohmygoodness. How am I going to get this thing off? What if I rip it? I stand there for a minute, not knowing what my next move should be. Should I start from the top, and just slowly roll it down? Yes, that's smart, go slow. My mom starts to ask if I'm ok in there, do I need help? Help would be good Ma, just go ahead and trim about 50 pounds off my stomach and my ass so I don't have to be sweating bullets in a Boscov's lady's dressing room where no less than 20 women over the age of 70 have come in and gone, trying on their bosom holders and slips...wondering how and if I'm ever going to remove what has become a second skin off of me.
The end of this story is that I did in fact get out of the generic-brand-Spanx, and it is now hanging in my closet, laughing at me until the wedding. I hear it, late at night, taunting me. A best friend/worst enemy kind of situation.
I will add this to my list of Top Ten things that scare the living daylights out of me. Wondering if I had to be cut out of a Spanx in a dressing room.