Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Mr. Grant, it's my derriere - take it or leave it.

I hate "shapewear".  Ok, let's just call it like it is...girrrrdles.  Shapewear my fat ass! 

What monster decided that women, or men for that matter, needed this awful business?  For those of you who are unfamiliar with it, shapewear is a type of undergarment that a person squeezes into in an effort to "reduce unsightly bulges and look slim and sexy."  Give me a break.  Basically it's just a means to squeeze one bulge of fat someplace else less noticeable.  It's horrifying and uncomfortable.  Plus, I must add, it does the following:

It's false advertising.  Imagine our partner's disappointment when expecting a particular shape of fannie and coming across a completely different derriere.  He's expecting round and curvy but instead out droops a saggy, sloppy thing.  A nice fellow might stick around but a shallow guy won't call back.  Why should he?  We led him on by pretending we're Marilyn Monroe.  Joe Schmo doesn't need to continue on with his Cary Grant impersonation.

Secondly, girdles are sweat catchers.  Even when it's 30 below outside, our rolls of flesh beneath are dripping with perspiration.  Obviously, if we have to wear these awful get-ups, we're overweight to begin with.  We tend to sweat just thinking about them.  It's not a good thing to pull off a soggy, wet girdle only to catch pneumonia the next day.  Is it really worth the sake of your heath to have a smooth waist line at your brother-in-law's wedding?  You probably don't even like the guy.

I don't know about you, my dear friends and blog readers, but when I attempt to put on one of these horrible things, I feel like a sausage in a casing.  It takes me at least 15 minutes to get the damn thing over my lumps and bumps.  Of course, then I ask myself the ridiculous question, "Did I buy the right size?".   This always depresses me because I purchase what I believe to be a size larger than recommended to avoid asking myself this ridiculous question.  Then, once I look at the size chart to determine that yes - it's a size larger than my weight and height, I think, "Holy crap, I'm a fat terd!  I really do need this shapewear!!!"  

Perhaps this is all a marketing ploy?  In my anger and frustration at the amount of money I spend shifting my sweaty fat blobs about to make me feel like a sausage casing, I tear the damn thing off.  FREEDOM!!!   

So there, marketing monsters!  My butt will continue to be the droopy, saggy, sloppy derriere that it is but at least it will be comfortable and pneumonia free.  I refuse to make apologies going forward not even if it's to Mr.Cary Grant himself. 

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