I have. I am not even joking. Here's what happened....
Friday night hubby BBQed ribs and as usual, cooked way too many, but they were cooked to perfection with smoked hickory sauce dripping from their crispy grizzle. (I know I look at food the same way some women look at men).
Then Saturday afternoon I cooked a big brunch with bacon, sausage, eggs, hash-browns and toast. That night we had friends over for supper. Hubby went back to the BBQ with big, juicy prime-rib steaks and I made German potatoes (these are cooked with a full pack of bacon then the onions are sautéed in the bacon fat and poured over the potatoes. I topped it off with my famous broccoli casserole.
Well Sunday is family supper night and we had baked chicken with all the fixings. Needless to say come Monday morning I was not fitting comfortable in my skirt.
I tried putting a wire hanger through the eye of the zipper pull. While I pulled down on the skirt with one hand and pulled up with hanger in the other hand. The hook on the hanger gave way and straightened out under the strain and I ended up punching myself in the face.
I laid across the bed and tried to pull the button closer to the hole, but there was a better chance of getting Heather Mills & Paul McCartney back together before this button and the hole.
I finally gave in and decided to take out the big guns... Spanxs and control-top panty hose.
Putting Spanx on is an art form. You have to carefully shimmy them up past your knees and hips. Then when you get the fork in place you carefully roll them up over your hips and stomach like you're rolling up a jelly-role. You take your final deepest breath then roll them past your rib cage until they rest comfortable under your breasts. Be careful not to accidently tuck a nipple in because you will pay for that when you stand up.
Once the Spanx are safely in place I start on the control-top panty hose. Carefully unrolling them up over my ankles, then knees, taking them to the breaking point of their stretch capabilities over the hips and stomach then twisting them till they fall in place.
It's the "Latest celebrity diet!" Twenty minutes to put on Spank and panty-hose, 6 inches disappear off my waist and three off my thighs. I make a mental note to remember to check the Weight Watchers Guide to see if putting on Spanx and control-top panty-hose is in their exercise section. I should get at least 10 points for that.
Once everything is in place, my skirt slips on without a problem. It is actually a little baggy now around the stomach. I am pleased with my accomplishment.
Everything was great until I came home from work. As usual, I am in a rush to get my daughter to her music class. So I run up stairs and take off my suit and begin the decompression process. I carefully roll the control-top panty-hose over my stomach, past my hips and down to my knees.
I gain three inches back. I sit down on the bench in my room.
I roll the Spanx over my stomach and to my hips. Lunch begins to digest and I gain the last three inches back. It was like opening a big bag of pink home insulation. The entire mid-section of my body starts to expand and loosen.
I stand up and bend to roll the panty-hose past my knees. I feel the most God-awful pain starting in my lower back and running through the left side of my body. I am sure I've been shot.
I land on the floor, curled up in ball with shocks of pain going through my body and let out a blood curdling scream. My daughter comes running into the room.
"What happened?"
"I don't know." I think I am having a heart attack but I don't want to scare her. "Call your father and tell him to get home now."
"I should call an ambulance!" she screams. At first I think, yes that's a good idea. Then look down and notice my knees are still tied together with the control-top panty-hose and the Spanx are constricting my hips and blood flow. I have visions of a paramedic writing something about "50 Shades of Gray" in his report on me.
"NO!" I scream. "No ambulance!" She helps me finish taking the panty-hose off. Then she helps me up from the floor and acts as a crutch as I lip towards the bed moaning in pain with each step. I roll on to the mattress.
I knew my next request would ensure her need for counseling someday but by then she would be married and not my problem.
"I need you to get me some normal underwear and help me get the Spanx off." The look on her face was sheer terror but I was determined that if the good Lord was going to take me, it would be in comfortable underwear. If this was to be my daughter's last memory of me, then so be it. It's not like I asked her to change my bedpan.
With her eyes clenched shut she tugged at the Spanx until they came off, threw the comfortable underwear at me and ran out of the room.
By the time hubby arrived I am curled up in a ball on the bed in wracks of pain.
I refused to go to the hospital until the indents from the Spanx have disappeared from around by body.
Four hours later the doctor at the Emergency Room confirmed I had a pinched nerve in by back.
Five days later with the help of a bottle of muscle relaxers and pain killers I can finally walk upright. I only feel a slight pull in my left hip.
Tonight Hubby is taking me to supper and a show with friends. I have to fit into a dress. I've spent the entire week on the couch, unable to move, eating Halloween chips. I walk into my closet, the dress hangs on one side, the Spanx and control-top panty hose are on a shelf on the opposite side. It's like the showdown at the OK Corral.
What have I learned?
I am a slave to my vanity.
I begin the arduous process of pulling the Spanx up over my knees, shimming them past my hips and stomach, taking that final breath as I roll them past my rib cage. Instantly I lose three inches. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look like a Polish sausage but nothing jiggles.
Yay me!
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