Ladies, why in the world do we subject ourselves to "shape wear?"
I bought a dress for our friends' wedding, and convinced Scott it was a good deal because it was $14 (retail, too!), and I could wear it to their wedding AND to his Christmas party.
Did I mention that the aforementioned wedding happened at the end of June, right when I was running about 10 miles a week and hitting the gym 4 days a week on top of that?
I forgot about the dress until the Monday before Scott's Christmas party, when I was running roughly 0 miles a week, and hitting the gym possibly 4 times a month.
Of course, I headed back to the gym 4 days that week. I covered 7.5 miles. I drank 2-3 litres of water a day. And that dress fit perfectly.
Until I went to put on these awesome sparkly tights I'd bought, and the waist band turned me into a segmented worm.
Not attractive. Nor was the "crotch creep" my dress made when I tried to walk, since the slinky little number wouldn't quite cooperate with any of my not-so-slinky slips.
After perusing the internet, it seems the only solution to the segmented worm problem was shapewear. And it seems the only solution to crotch creep in a slinky dress was shapewear.
So I bought a pair.
I sized up. I figured I'd worked pretty darn hard to make that dress fit in only 5 days... I didn't need it to redefine my shape... just refine those rough edges.
Putting it on was interesting. At first, I didn't think I could get it on. Like, at all. And once I was in it, I didn't think I could breathe.
And it was a fine art getting all the layers right... pantyhose... then low-back bra converter... then shaper... then dress. Then remember I still had to put on deodorant, so everything came off, and boy, was it a good thing I remember it, because getting dressed again could have worked up quite the sweat... pantyhose... bra converter... shaper... dress...
And then I had to take it all off one more time when I remembered to go pee.
That was when I made the rule that we would be leaving the party the moment I had to pee, because there was no way that I could do the shape wear gymnastics in a small bathroom stall.
I enjoyed not having to remember to hold my stomach firm all night: I couldn't relax it -- but that made it very difficult to eat. But that's ok, it squished my stomach to the point where I didn't feel the need to eat. Somehow I was already full.
Just after the meal was over, I realized I was still in the habit of consuming large amounts of water, meaning I had to hit the powder room and it was far too early to leave. That pretty much set the tone for the evening. I tell you, by the time the night was over, I had the pantyhose, bra, shapewear, dress pattern down to an art.
And when the night was over, I was ready to peel every single layer off me.
When I did, I realized one lingering side effect to the shape wear... whether it was the squeezing of my stomach acid up my esophagus or constricting of my ribs inflaming the associated cartilage, it felt like my chestal / heart region was on fire.
Scott had asked me, earlier in the night as I was trying out different layering techniques, why I was going through all of the effort... why not just wear my backup outfit? I blushed and made some comment about rounding the corner to 30 and needing to get one last wear out of some of my more revealing outfits before they became age inappropriate.
Maybe it would have been a smarter idea to affix the season of "Summer" to this dress, rather than the season of "youth"... at the end of the night, I still loved the dress, and I'm sure I'll wear it again in my 30s, but that shapewear? It's hitting the trash.