So, I promised you a funny story. Actually I think I used the word "hysterical" (because to me it is). This should at least give you a smile and maybe even a chuckle.
Those of you who regularly read Embrace the Grace are aware that I am in the midst of a great battle. A battle in which many my age seem to be similarly engaged. It is, quite simply, the Battle of the Bulge!
Yes, I've been guilty of laughing through the years at the "Chest of Drawers Disease" joke. (You know, the one that goes - "My (husband, dad, uncle, friend) has chest of drawers disease. His chest has fallen into his drawers.") But if I had only known that women have their own unique difficulties after fifty, I would never have laughed! (Well, maybe not as much. Smile.)
Now, please understand that I'm one of those women who never experienced the little, teeny, cute-sie, cheer leader phase of life. My nick name in middle school was "Big Woman." Now there's a clue for you! I've tried to keep my eating under control most of my life because I knew the consequences of veering from that path would be both swift and dire.
But it seems that my metabolism which has s-l-o-w-l-y trudged along with me all these years, has come to a complete halt! And no amount of coaxing, walking, jumping, sweating, nor even "Zumba-ing" can get it moving again.
So, I have resorted to camouflage dressing. (Which is definitely an acquired art form as you will see.)
I'm constantly on the look-out for articles of clothing which offer maximum coverage for minimum expense. Consequently, when I spotted the tummy-control jeans at Sam's a few weeks ago, I just knew that I had struck gold. The label attached to the jeans touted their ability to work all manner of miracles using attractive words like: slim, reduce, tighten, firm......... they do everything but walk on the water for you! AND they were only $19.95!!!
Kristin happened to be with me and she immediately suggested that I buy a pair (or five). But I didn't want to spend the twenty dollars, so I gave her a subtle hint that sounded something like this: "My birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks. Tell your dad that I would like a pair." Smooth, huh?!
And so it was that on the day my birth was to be celebrated, I opened a lovely gift bag that amazingly happened to contain the very pair of miracle-working, tummy-tucking jeans to which I had so covertly alluded. Incredible!
Usually, in the Hawley household, all new purchases or gifts of clothing must be modeled immediately for the ooooo-ing and ahhhh-ing pleasure of those gathered. Fortunately, that did not take place this time. I was able to try on the jeans the next morning with no one around. And I now recognize that as a gift from heaven.
After a minimal amount of huffing, puffing, tugging, breath-holding, and standing tall, I managed to successfully zip the new jeans. And friends, IT WAS TRULY AMAZING!! (Cue heavenly sounding music with angelic "AHHHHH!" wavering in the background.) I looked down and was indeed able to run my hands over a totally taut tummy! I could hardly believe my eyes - it was like the greatest disappearing act of all time and all for only twenty bucks! I immediately made plans to contact the company and find out if they also made skirts suitable for Sunday wear.
But as with all magic tricks, there is the missing element of the unknown. They are called "illusions" for a reason. The laws of physics will not be denied and as we learned in Mr. Wolf's biology class so long ago, "For every action there is an equal and opposite RE-Action!" And so it was with the jeans.
My tummy had disappeared alright! But when I looked into the mirror, I discovered to my horror (cue the frightening horror music) that it had RE-Appeared in the form of a mudgey, pudgey, additional spare tire just above the waist band of the miracle jeans. (I'm aware that "mudgey" and "pudgey" are not real words but there don't seem to be real words to describe what I was seeing.) Ah, the harsh light of reality!
So, in my state of disappointment, I began the task of extricating myself from the tummy-tucking-travesty jeans. My wise family did not request visual proof of the fact that the jeans failed miserably. Once they stopped smiling at the verbal picture I painted for them, we all decided that it would be best to simply return the jeans to Sam's. They also vetoed my plan of standing next to the display with a sign stating: "These jeans are a cruel hoax!" It's good to have family.
You'll be happy to know that I've bought a pair of shoes instead! Have a great weekend.