I've been blogging for several years, entertaining myself as I go along. I have decided I need a Category to place all my old Re-Posts here in my new blog since I've deleted the first one called Brainhairballs years ago. My second blog, The Kitchen Bitch logs my days of learning and cooking at the California Culinary Academy in San Francisco. I'll re-post from time to time some of my very FAVORITES.
Here is the first....
I had to go to Macy’s yesterday to buy a black bra and girdle to make me look good in a formal dress I’m wearing to a big deal wedding this Saturday. I’m a size 12 and have been for a couple of years now. I was much happier at size 10 but somehow the pounds keep adding on ever so slowly. It’s like you go to sleep at night and a tiny ounce of fat creeps into your bed and you think maybe it’s just the cat so you cozy up to the pillow and fall back to sleep. When you wake up in the morning you pet the cat, kiss your husband and off to work you go. You’re never the wiser until the 16th or 30th nocturnal visit from the first fat ounces cousins. Then when you weigh yourself you noticed two extra pounds. How the heck did that happen you say?
So now I have to squeeze myself into this terrorist girdle and I hope I suffocate some of those fat cousins so they die and get flushed out with my next martini. My family keeps telling me I look just fine and not to worry so much about it. Gee aren’t they sweet. It’s not like they want me to quit cooking just because I need to diet or anything. No motives there.
Back to the girdle made for Barbie. This thing was transported to Macy’s through some time-machine from the dark ages. It comes clear up to my ribcage and goes down half my thighs. The midsection is lined with PVC pipe stays or some other less than forgiving torso length sticks. When I finally got it on, up and crushingly snug in place I had to sit down. Positive note: I didn’t let loose with flatulence as I bent over getting it on or sitting down. Not yet anyway. I looked in the mirror and then at my 3 torn fingernails, hoping they were on the floor somewhere and not getting re-injected back into my system under the girdle. I thought I looked a little smaller in the mid-section so it got put on the ‘buy it’ list.
This wedding I’m going to will have a lot of real jet-setters, and famous and simi-wanna be’s there so I need to feel better than the Pillsbury Dough Girl fresh out of the oven. I just don’t want a jiggly tummy doing dance steps to no music while I stand around and mingle. If it was a costume party I wouldn’t sweat it since I’d just go as a Float, but it’s a star-studded party with people who‘d rather find an Ex-Lax on their hotel room pillow. It’s true. They eat that stuff like candy to keep slim. Funny how you don’t see celebs coughing as much as us normal people do.
Next to try on was the cool black lacy “shelf-bra” as they call it. It also has sliced walrus tusks under the boobs to keep them up – or some other hard as tuff-luv thing otherwise known as underwires. I was looking for a bra that would push up the twins so I looked all Hollywood fake with my real boobs. Now-a-days no one really appreciates real double D’s anymore. Fake is where it’s at. I tried the bra with those jelly like inserts to see what that looked like first. Stupid dumb. The idea was to have them puffing out of the top of my dress, not under my armpits! They don’t sell armpit girdles so I popped those puppies right out. Then when I tried it without the inserts I felt like someone built a short shelf for long torpedoes. I want to look sexy in my dress, not hooker savvy. I ended up with a simple black bra without clever attachments, so that scored the ‘buy list’ too.
At my age I should just forget about sexy but then I think of Sofia Loren in her 70’s and I gotta keep trying. It’s a woman thing to want to look good at a fancy affair. (or be good at having an affair!) Anyway, I digress. My biggest concern really is not so much as looking sexy but trying to keep the hot flashes from driving me to tear off all my clothes because when the hot flashes hit even the hair on my head drips sweat. It can drive a woman to tears. (it’s really sweat but I tell everyone I’m crying. I always cry at weddings even late into the night). Yea, whatever. I really don’t think I’ll be ripping off my clothes if I get too hot anyway. I’ll show restraint for a change.
Okay, time to grab my goods and buy them. The bra came off pretty easy peasy, just like I was at a high school dance. Then came The Incredible Hulka – aka girdle. That damn thing just didn’t want to peel off nicely. Think Evil Power Struggle. It was like I was trying to get out of one of those things they put on crazy patients at the asylums. Nothing worked. It didn’t bend or fold down easily because of the steel bars inserted all over it. I was beginning to panic wondering how I was ever going to get this frickin’ thing off me. There I was, all alone in a tiny closet jumping and hopping around like I was at the gym.
Here is the first....
A FAVORITE
I had to go to Macy’s yesterday to buy a black bra and girdle to make me look good in a formal dress I’m wearing to a big deal wedding this Saturday. I’m a size 12 and have been for a couple of years now. I was much happier at size 10 but somehow the pounds keep adding on ever so slowly. It’s like you go to sleep at night and a tiny ounce of fat creeps into your bed and you think maybe it’s just the cat so you cozy up to the pillow and fall back to sleep. When you wake up in the morning you pet the cat, kiss your husband and off to work you go. You’re never the wiser until the 16th or 30th nocturnal visit from the first fat ounces cousins. Then when you weigh yourself you noticed two extra pounds. How the heck did that happen you say?
So now I have to squeeze myself into this terrorist girdle and I hope I suffocate some of those fat cousins so they die and get flushed out with my next martini. My family keeps telling me I look just fine and not to worry so much about it. Gee aren’t they sweet. It’s not like they want me to quit cooking just because I need to diet or anything. No motives there.
Back to the girdle made for Barbie. This thing was transported to Macy’s through some time-machine from the dark ages. It comes clear up to my ribcage and goes down half my thighs. The midsection is lined with PVC pipe stays or some other less than forgiving torso length sticks. When I finally got it on, up and crushingly snug in place I had to sit down. Positive note: I didn’t let loose with flatulence as I bent over getting it on or sitting down. Not yet anyway. I looked in the mirror and then at my 3 torn fingernails, hoping they were on the floor somewhere and not getting re-injected back into my system under the girdle. I thought I looked a little smaller in the mid-section so it got put on the ‘buy it’ list.
This wedding I’m going to will have a lot of real jet-setters, and famous and simi-wanna be’s there so I need to feel better than the Pillsbury Dough Girl fresh out of the oven. I just don’t want a jiggly tummy doing dance steps to no music while I stand around and mingle. If it was a costume party I wouldn’t sweat it since I’d just go as a Float, but it’s a star-studded party with people who‘d rather find an Ex-Lax on their hotel room pillow. It’s true. They eat that stuff like candy to keep slim. Funny how you don’t see celebs coughing as much as us normal people do.
Next to try on was the cool black lacy “shelf-bra” as they call it. It also has sliced walrus tusks under the boobs to keep them up – or some other hard as tuff-luv thing otherwise known as underwires. I was looking for a bra that would push up the twins so I looked all Hollywood fake with my real boobs. Now-a-days no one really appreciates real double D’s anymore. Fake is where it’s at. I tried the bra with those jelly like inserts to see what that looked like first. Stupid dumb. The idea was to have them puffing out of the top of my dress, not under my armpits! They don’t sell armpit girdles so I popped those puppies right out. Then when I tried it without the inserts I felt like someone built a short shelf for long torpedoes. I want to look sexy in my dress, not hooker savvy. I ended up with a simple black bra without clever attachments, so that scored the ‘buy list’ too.
At my age I should just forget about sexy but then I think of Sofia Loren in her 70’s and I gotta keep trying. It’s a woman thing to want to look good at a fancy affair. (or be good at having an affair!) Anyway, I digress. My biggest concern really is not so much as looking sexy but trying to keep the hot flashes from driving me to tear off all my clothes because when the hot flashes hit even the hair on my head drips sweat. It can drive a woman to tears. (it’s really sweat but I tell everyone I’m crying. I always cry at weddings even late into the night). Yea, whatever. I really don’t think I’ll be ripping off my clothes if I get too hot anyway. I’ll show restraint for a change.
Okay, time to grab my goods and buy them. The bra came off pretty easy peasy, just like I was at a high school dance. Then came The Incredible Hulka – aka girdle. That damn thing just didn’t want to peel off nicely. Think Evil Power Struggle. It was like I was trying to get out of one of those things they put on crazy patients at the asylums. Nothing worked. It didn’t bend or fold down easily because of the steel bars inserted all over it. I was beginning to panic wondering how I was ever going to get this frickin’ thing off me. There I was, all alone in a tiny closet jumping and hopping around like I was at the gym.
I was practically crying thinking about how embarrassing it was going to be to have to walk out and find the saleslady to help me get it off me. By now it was even more difficult since my body decided to have a HOT FLASH which made it feel like I had on a wet wetsuit. My skin would tear just trying to pull it off. I was desperate. The last time I worked that hard on something was my marriage, which didn't work, so you can see how I was filling with anxiety. When I finally got it off I punched it a couple of times. That made me feel a little better. I almost threw it on the floor and stomped on it but sometimes there are stray pins on the floor and staples and stuff. Can’t be too careful, not like you're dealing with a spouse or something. I had to confess I do think I slaughtered a few of those Fat Cousin cells in the scuffle so it was worth it.
Note to Self: Good idea for weight loss book – make women sign up for girdle exercises. Figure out 10 difference exercises to do with girdles and find out if they are toxic when burnt to a crisp.
Note to Self: Good idea for weight loss book – make women sign up for girdle exercises. Figure out 10 difference exercises to do with girdles and find out if they are toxic when burnt to a crisp.
No comments:
Post a Comment