Sometimes being overweight gives us some funny moments.
I bought a new outfit for my daughter’s leaving party (one event I just couldn’t get out of) and she suggested that I buy some shapewear just to make me feel more confident and to give me a better line under my clothes. She doesn’t need it but she often wears an underbust shapewear dress under a clingy dress to give a nice sleek line and she suggested I bought one. She told me the trick is to get one at least 3 sizes too small and then to squash yourself into it. She said that as it’s plunged at the front to fit under your own bra it gives you more bust lift too and doesn’t squash out your boobs. I, being me, went for the black top with black and white leopard print skirt version. Something like the picture but from the underbust down it is leopard print.
So I’d had my hair done earlier in the day, I spent extra time on my make up and my daughter and I had had a real girly fun getting ready session in her bedroom, listening to music, chatting, having a glass of wine. My son was in his room choosing his privacy in his man cave and his own bathroom to sharing space with us for getting primped.
I was finally ready to be squashed into my shapewear. After some sizing up of the situation we went for a bottom up approach and I stepped in and we tugged and prodded and pushed and pulled and eventually I was in it. Now the black and white leopard print was stretched to look more like Fresian cow hide (see picture below) but it felt comfortable.
The extra uplift from my new uplift bra and the shapewear had me peering over my boobs all night (exaggeration but they were up where they have not been since at least before breast feeding experience number 1). The bottom of the shapewear had a rubber band around it to stop it slipping so being a tall lady it was nestled mid thigh, it wasn’t moving. I’ve not worn anything that short since 1992 let me tell you. Best thing is I was breathing and I did feel more held together. I liked it, I felt trimmer for sure.
My daughter suggested I pop my shoes on as they had a tiny ankle strap so it might be best if I had them on before I completed the outfit. We’d just got them on when my son walked into the room to say the car had arrived.
His face was a picture as he looked at me in my spandex leopard print mini dress with super plunge neckline and both myself and my daughter instantly realised that he thought the shapewear was my dress for the evening. His mouth hung, he was aghast. Clearly he didn’t want to upset me but clearly he didn’t want to be seen with me in this ridiculous outfit. His eyes darted from my body to his sister’s face and back again, his brain clearly churning to find a suitable comment for the occasion, panic struck, that’s what he was panic struck.
“Doesn’t mum look amazing in her new outfit?” my daughter gushed, holding back the giggles.
“Yes, don’t I look fabulous? Mummy’s still got it don’t you think?” I said as I strutted cat walk style around the room, even stopping for obligatory end of runway pause, pose and turn and slapping my own behind at the end in true hoochy mama style.
“Er… erm… er…” he stammered, my daughter and I smiling at him, waiting for him to say how awesome I looked, holding back the giggles and secretly hoping this vision of his mother in her underwear had not mentally scared him for life.
“Is the car here now, give me my bag, let’s go!” I squealed, even throwing in a little “whoop” for good measure.
“Mummy! Mummy! No, erm no, mummy! Stop! No mummy please.” he pleaded, hands in a prayer position “Your hair and make up look amazing and I even love your shoes but… but… that dress… it’s nice but maybe you should save it for another occasion… in a few months time… or never” he nearly cried.
The comedy timing of his ‘or never’ finally had his sister and I in fits of giggles and he heaved a sigh of relief when his sister held up my real dress and said “let’s get your frock on ma, we can’t have you going out in your undies”.
“Thank God, thank God” he fell to his knees “I really experienced one of those awful man moments there where we just know we can’t say anything right and I don’t ever want to experience one again” he said breathlessly as if he’d just been through some arduous trial.
Being fat is a bind but if we miss the opportunities that we get to have a laugh with it, well then we just make it a whole lot worse. If I’d not been fat that memory would not be in the family memory bank for us to laugh at for years to come… life is never all bleak, we have to pick the good bits out and cherish them, they help us through the tough bits.
And as an end note, I felt a million dollars, didn’t mind being in photos and videos (even though I of course hated them the next day) and I would highly recommend those dresses, they work if only to give a bit of confidence.