My pants don’t fit. And, not, well, just my pants either…turns out, the other day? When I was wearing this relatively Big Girlish type dressy thing, which is in this slitherly material, that rather…comforms….to one’s shape, I decided to slip on my Pants Of Steel (aka, Spanx. They are on sale, currently, at Steinmart’s, if you’re interested in purchasing some) Anyhoo, back to me - I slid them on. Okay. Fine. I didn’t slide them on.
I got both legs in, all six of my thighs, and started hopping around trying to get them the rest of the way up.
Or, I suppose, in the interest of honesty, over some other bulging things. H, my little guy, totally loved watching all of this, as Parental Privacy is still a concept not really accepted in my house. He did, however, match up the navy shoes to the dress, so I forgive some of his rude and unnecessary commentary. Seriously, I didn’t need to hear that maybe they “shrunk in the dryer, mama” - and while I give him MAJOR POINTS for male sensitivity, since he was wise enough not to say it might be me that got bigger, I’m still training him that we just don’t discuss those sorts of things with a girl. Ever.
Now, I’m sucked, tucked, dressed, shod and ready to go (the make-up thing happens in the car). I did the whole Run Into The House Four Times Before Leaving thing - to get the jounral project we’d done involving photos of the pet moose that came home from first grade, two, to get the cell phone, three, he forgot his snack, and lastly, I forgot the damn keys.
Manuvering the trash can out of it’s hiding space in the garage (very stiff rules here at the condo, no trash cans anywhere, EVER, other than in the garage) I felt a draft.
Skirts are drafty, right?
Wrong.
Pants Of Steel that have the ass blown out of them are drafty.
Really drafty.
Plus also? To add insult to injury, (and yes, I do find losing my Pants Of Steel quite injurious to my Thin Pride) I was no longer sporting anything resembling that fabulous 1940’s hourglass shape.
I’d gone straight back to Bosc Pair. Little on top, all six thighs a-hanging in the breeze on the bottom.
I did the one thing any self-respecting girl in my situation does: drop the child at school, picked up a skinny latte (see? calorie management already! talk about putting that diet in motion immediately) and staked out a prime space in the parking lot….right in front of Steinmart.
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