On Friday, I went to Kohl's at lunchtime to look at the booby options in person. I couldn't seem to find a normal strapless bra or bustier. There were, however, lots of "shapewear" garments that seemed like they were right up there with water boarding when scoring them on the torture spectrum. I am not sure why Amnesty International has not investigated the Spanx company.
I finally decided to try on this thing and see how it fit (note that the straps are optional and can be removed):
I grabbed what I believed to be my size and headed to the fitting room. I noticed that it had snaps in the crotch. "Great, it's a onesie," I thought to myself. A few minutes later, I had it on and quickly realized that this is not the way to kick off a weekend. Well, unless you want to feel awful about yourself on your days off - in which case, go for it.
Now, I really should not make it sound like I just slithered into the thing. Despite the tag extolling the "easy up" nature of the shaper, there was nothing easy about the whole endeavor. I broke a sweat just trying to get the onesie over my hips. My eyeliner was running and my hair looked like very bad things had happened to it. Then I had to contort myself every which way to get the hook and eye business in the back taken care of. Eventually, out of breath and slightly nervous that I would never get back out of the contraption, I decided to take a peek at myself in the mirror. I didn't look like the lady pictured above, that was for sure. First off, my hair was not blowing. Second, I had fat squishing out every which way. I suddenly wondered why I bother with all that time on the elliptical, the eating carefully, or the gazillion yoga classes I've taken. The whole scene was just depressing. And let me just say that the lighting in the fitting room is its own special kind of hell.
I worked my way out of the shaper and put it back on the hanger so that it could go back out on the sales floor and damage someone else's self-esteem at a later date. Dejected, I drove back to work and wondered whether I might be able to get my sister to reconsider my "let's all just wear yoga pants" proposal.
The next day, I worked all day at a pet expo and decided to stop at a different department store on the way home. Maybe their lingerie department would have something more suitable. Honestly, I didn't really know what I was looking for. I just knew that I need to wear something under the dress. I thought I'd try my luck with a bustier. I grabbed one that looked like this:
This one had even more hooks on the back than the last one. It almost takes an act of Congress to get one of these on by yourself. However, I sure as hell wasn't going to bring someone along or even to ask a salesperson to help me. This was a solo mission from start to finish. Anyway, I got it on and was again traumatized by the florescent lights and the audacity of the mirror. However, it seemed to fit better than the other contraption. I may go back for it later. I'm going to hold out some small hope that it will go on sale. I prefer not to pay too much for anything that squishes my boobs and damages my psyche at the same time.
The good news is that the bridesmaids' shoes are super cute and won't cause me any angst at all.
|"We won't squish your boobs, we promise!"|