Okay, so let’s lighten things up around here a bit, yeah?
Y’all my best friend, S, will be three hours away from me tomorrow! I have not physically seen her in person since around 2008 or so. I am going down to South Carolina,
with my momma and Baby Belle in the hopes that we get to spend some time together. She has never met my child and I haven’t met her new husband. We have a hotel room in the downtown area of the city we are going to, and I am just stoked.
I have prepped for this hard.
I have gotten my hair and nails done, of course… that’s just a given, as a Southern lady worth her salt. Do not look at my toes, though, budget issues required that to be cut from the list. Yikes
I bought two dresses, one of them will be absolutely perfect for dinner or whatever, if it fits when it gets here tomorrow. That’s the trouble with mail order clothing, you don’t know, what you don’t know. That is, your version of an XL may not translate to their version of an XL. For some reason, measurements mean different things in different parts of the world. You can be damn sure that if it’s coming from China, it’s probably going to run really small. The insidious part is now some Chinese clothing makers are actually producing clothing that’s true to size… so now you don’t know what the fuck size to order anymore. I think this is part of the Chinese people’s scheme to slowly drive Americans crazy, uh, crazier.
For example, I ordered a body shaper to go under these dresses. I have to look snatched when I see S, okay? Looking at the measurements, I was an XXL, and the website insisted that’s what I would be. Whew…. Okay, so I ordered an XXL. It arrived, and holy shit it fit! Perfectly. Made in China clearly printed on the label. I do try to buy local, but I needed this quickly, and it needed to be cost effective. The shaper is gorgeous as shapers go and the fabric is nice. I honestly cannot complain on that front.
There is just one thing. Guys, fair warning. Lady, talk here. If you don’t want to read it, check out now. So I picked this shaper because it had those hooks, like on the back of your bra, in the crotchaler region; I thought I was being clever by avoiding the typical shapers with the “Pee Hole.” If you’ve never had the pleasure of the pee hole, allow me to enlighten you. Most shapers just have these overlapping flaps in the lady parts. Somehow, in your delicate, genteel, state, you are meant to pull the flaps open and do your business, whilst holding said flaps. Do not ask me what you are supposed to do if you have to do number 2. There’s no flap for that. Maybe
you’re just not supposed to do that because you’re a lady bitch, and ladies don’t do that. Ewww.
The problem lies in that it is impossible to tee tee through that pee hole. Seriously, impossible. I was at a dear friend’s wedding, and nature called, so I got into the world’s smallest, stinkiest stall, and I am trying to line the god forsaken pee hole up for optimal target suppression. The urgency is only building, because I don’t know about you, but when I see a commode, it’s time to go. I think I have the flaps lined up as best I can, and I go ahead with the mission. I WAS WRONG. Somehow the flaps were funneling pee up towards my belly button and not out towards the damn toilet I am desperately trying to abort the mission, but the long wait had made stopping laughable. Now my shaper was soaked with urine. WTF were these flaps good for? I had to just pull my dress down over my piss drenched shaper and walk as serenely as I could back out into the wedding. Mind you, the urine started soaking through to the dress… I had a wet belly with a
line pointing straight at my crotch. I tried soaking it up with towels, but there weren’t many towels in the bathroom. I smelled of pee. No one danced with me. My brother still talks about that.
So yeah, I thought I would be clever and avoid that all together this time. By getting those hooks, the whole thing would open up and the problem would be solved. Right? In some ways, yes. The problem here lies in that you have to hook it back up, and I, being a large chested woman, cannot see the hooks. Trying to hook those things by touch is fucking hard. Out of the frying pan into the fire, eh? At least I will not pee myself in this one, but if y’all see me walking around with the bottom half of my shaper hanging out, mind your business.
~the Belle
No comments:
Post a Comment