This would be a funny post if it wasn't true, or if I was talking about someone else.
By Adrienn on March 26, 2013
This would be a funny post if it wasn’t true, or if I was talking about someone else.
A perk to never doing my hair and makeup and living in pajamas is when I DO do myself all up, I look totally different. Like, wow! You clean up real nice! Dennis was all, “Is that a new shirt? Where did you get those jeans?” Yea, I was even making my clothes look good.
I was wearing my hot pants. I call them my hot pants because they’re jeans, but not mom jeans and they’re not stretchy. They also have a couple rips in them-which makes me look really hip and young. Right? And since they fall below my MT (that’s muffin top, but we don’t talk about that) they still fit! Kind of.
Especially when I wear spanx. They help keep my ass in and the zipper up.
Seriously, whose ass is only 4 inches from crease to tail?
And since putting spanx on is like a fucking workout, I had to stop eating and drinking 2 hours before getting dressed to limit my need to use the bathroom and keep my bloat in check. I just about ripped my finger nails off pulling them up, then I had to do a few squats and lunges to put them in their place. I took a breather and let my body get used to the lack of air space left in my lungs.
Then it was time to put on my pants. Honestly, I didn’t think I would be able to get that little bastard of a button in the hole…but victory was mine!
All was well, until hours and a few cocktails later I was at the bar and had to pee.
It didn’t occur to me until I was hovering over the toilet doing my business that I just put myself in the middle of a predicament. The stall was about 2 ft x 3 ft…how the hell am I gonna squat and lunge myself back into my spanx?
All I had room to do was pull up. So I did. And it was a bitch. But I wasn’t done yet. I was pulling and tucking and pulling some more until I heard a pop. Thank god it was only my back going out and not the sound of my pants ripping in half. THAT would have been embarrassing. And lucky for me I was already well into self-medicating with vodka, so the stabby pain didn’t set in until the next day.