I am still trying to come to terms with my over 40 ness. I color my hair to eradicate the gray, I buy concealer by the gallon and I try to remind myself that personal style notwithstanding, I am not just a "creative" person, but a mom of two boys and a middle aged woman. (yelp) Therefore, I must at least give the impression that I am attempting to act my age once in awhile while also taking a stab at maintaining that youthful vibrance and glow. Ah, hell...I'm white knuckling it just like everybody else. I draw the line at sweat pants with 'Juicy' written on the ass.
So I do what I can to keep it all together, so to speak. I'll admit it - I don't get to the gym as much as I should. Especially with the kids home all the time. I'm really trying to watch what I eat. Alrright, not trying too hard. I always think summer will be easier for some reason. No major holiday season. No candy holidays. Nothing much in the comfort food category. It's hot - how much am I going to want to eat?
Turns out, a lot. I'm going to want to eat a lot. We start off the season with The Hubby's world class Texas BBQ when he busts out the smoker. And duh - you can't do BBQ properly without corn on the cobb smothered in butter, corn muffins, potato salad, pulled pork sandwiches swimming in BBQ sauce and topped with slaw on an extra big bun. You gotta wash that all down with beer, right? And then there's s'mores. The rest of the summer? Aw, it'll be fruit salad and cottage cheese, I'm sure.
Honey, the only cottage cheese and extra big buns going on right now is what's staring back at me from the full size mirror. Sorry. No one needs that visual.
Who am I kidding? Summer isn't easier. It's hot dogs and beer. Hamburgers on the grill Strawberry shortcake and ice cream. It's ribs and fried chicken and potato salad and chips and brownies and oh Goddess....I'm so...so very hungry right now....
So my point is, it ain't happenin'. No matter how many times I tell myself that my cute summer wardrobe would be cuter if most of it didn't look like sausage casing, I'm still going for that burger when I see it. My will power is shot to shit.
So the solution? Spanx. Cheating. And what's more? Spanx are some sort of torture device. Sorry guys, but I would've bet money that a man dreamed this one up if I hadn't seen the perky female who actually did, talking about her brain child on the Anderson show recently. She's making millions. One day, she took a pair of panty hose and cut the lower portion off the legs and started wearing them under her clothes to sort of...compact things. The rest is history.
I'd heard of the things, but never considered wearing one. That is, until I saw them at Walmart. I figured my judgement was already impaired, being that I was at Walmart in the first place, so I took the plunge. The difference? Kind of astonishing. I could button my jeans again. I had found the ultimate sausage casing.
The problem? Where to begin? First of all, can you say "girdle?" Cause that's what this is. You can call it a body shaper, a spanx, whatever. It's a fucking girdle. Next, it's a pain in the ass. I started out with the one that you tuck in. All the tucking was annoying and I moved on to a legless body suit sort of thing. Even worse. You have to hook these three little crotch hooks every time you go to the bathroom. Yeah. enjoying this extraneous info? Guys, I'm talking to you especially. Because we're doing this for you, to some extent. And listen, I know that you guys prefer curvy women to what we see on the runway, but let's get real. You still give us the look when the muffin top shows itself.
Tired of the crotch hooks (wow, that sounds really S&M), I moved on to my third option - the Maidenform (oh Goddess, that was a brand I thought I'd never patronize. Like Oil Of Olay. The stuff that only took up residence in my mother's house.) It's got these straps that accentuate your arm pit tits and dig into your flesh like a pack of hungry wolves on a picnic. To say that it's tight...that doesn't do it justice. I'm saying that trying to pull this fucker up or take it off is akin to trying to peel off a swim suit after a day at the pool. Oh - and because there are legs? No crotch hooks. Cool! Instead, the exit hatch is a hole right at the crotch. I'm not sure what to do with this, because last time I checked, I didn't have a penis and I don't think I'm a good aim. I mean, I still can't pee in a bottle no matter how long I'm stuck in traffic. So that's useless. Was that some sad attempt at ventilation? All I can say is that each and every time you have to do your biz, you gotta take that mother f'er off. Completely off. It's 90 degrees and you're drinking plenty of water to keep hydrated? That's excellent! Very healthy. But now you're in Target and you have to piss like a race horse. (By the way...remind me to Google the history of that. Or maybe somebody knows. Where did this start? Do race horses piss extraordinarily? Do they piss more or faster or better or...what?) So you're in that stupid Target stall and of course you get the one with the broken lock that won't stay closed. So you've got one leg against the door, you're peeling off layers and pulling this stupid girdle thing off and you're sitting there half naked, trying to carefully balance one cheek on the seat (because I don't care how much paper you put on that seat, those things are gross and I'm not going two cheeked. Don't ask me why I think I'm not getting syphilis from exposing one cheek versus two, but it just seems to work for me. So far, syphilis free. Fingers crossed.
But then you've got one leg up against the door and you're sweating profusely from being wedged into this flesh colored synthetic fabric from Hell and all the time you're asking yourself why. Why? I'm at Target and I've already seen at least 20 other women who all suffer from over 40-itis just like me. What am I trying to prove? Who am I impressing here? Is the pimply faced red shirted one stocking toilet paper in Aisle 12 going "Woah, Ma'am! Lookin' good! You TOTALLY look 39. Must be that sort of flat stomach you got goin' on, despite the totally gross pit tits." "Yeah, I say. I'm rocking the spanx, young man."
Have you ever noticed that the models for these things are always thin and fabulous? Do they think we actually believe the spanx will do this for us? Cause we're smart, ladies. We know they don't need 'em. In fact, it kinda pisses me off. Don't patronize me, spanx people!
|Yeah. Exactly. Don't patronize me, underwear mavens!|
The worst? When The Hubby thought I lost weight but walked into the closet unannounced to get a visual that I'm sure is burned into his brain irreversibly to my detriment.
The fun part? Scaring the shit out of the kids. The kids who insist on barging in on me to ask where the fruit snacks are. Okay, wise guys...feel like knocking now? Yeah...that's what I thought.
I'm still on the fence about this spanx thing, even though I'm in it for almost 70 bucks by now. I still have a paunch. It doesn't suck everything in. Adele recently said that she used three - THREE! - during the Grammy's but took two off when she performed. Shit.
Yesterday I was telling M1 about The Hubby's and my wedding. It was Victorian.
M1: Victorian?! Wow - I love that time period!
Me: Me too. We tried to be as authentic as possible. Dad even wore a top hat and spanx.
M1: Spanx? Dad wore spanx?
Me: Yeah. You know, those things they wore on their shoes? Oh...wait...what do you call those things??
So the kid has a really warped image in his mind as a companion piece to my horrifying under-garmented image.
The funny part is that I was the one wearing the "spanx". It was a corset and I would've hated to try to navigate the Target bathroom stall with one leg up while trying to lace up that puppy.