Sunday, July 18, 2010

My wedding will be flip flop friendly.

Things that make you realize you need to get your fat ass back on track:
(and possibly other random stuff)

*You have a panic attack when you get that invitation to your friend's wedding. The wedding where shorts and flip flops are frowned upon.

*You decide to reconsider friendship with friends who won't let you be comfortable.

*After scouring the farthest reaches of all your closets, you realize that you really don't fit into any of those skinny clothes. Not for lack of trying either since you tried to squeeze into some of those things 3 times.

*You wish you knew how to sew so you could 'take out' some of those skinny clothes and save yourself a boatload of money that could be better spent on cupcakes...oh wait.

*You rush yourself to the ER because you were having chest pains and shortness of breath and thought you may be dying only to discover that it's a panic attack. Who knew dress shopping could be that stressful?

*After having to listen to the ER doctor tell you he won't give you xanax because all you need to do is lay off the sweets and hit the gym, you decide you might need to find a different/fatty friendlier ER.

*After scoring some xanax from that very respectable guy on the corner who is also selling watches and birth certificates, you hit the dress department once again.

*Several dresses/breakdowns in, you find yourself wandering aimlessly through the kids department, cursing because you can't find the pink ruffly dress with a fuzzy bear on it in a size 16.

*Regaining your sanity, you then find yourself in the lingerie department, because you needed spanx anyway.

*You fall deeply and madly in love with the spanx so much so that you decide to ditch the dresses and just go with the spanx. Risque' will be your new thing.

*You wonder if the inventor of spanx really knows how magical they are and decide that you will track them down and become their lifelong slave (or just weeklong slave - you do have a wedding to attend).

*Having regained your sense of sexy a la spanx, you once again scour your closets and decide that with spanx, that one skirt will just fit. Dancing just won't be your thing. Or walking around too much. Bending over? HA!

*While trying on tops to match your skirt, you decide homicide in the dressing room is a viable option because if that little size 2 bitch trying on bikinis says she looks pregnant one more effin time you will stab her with your plastic hanger.

*You scratch the whole homicide by hanger plan after realizing that the little bitch actually is pregnant and is just trying to find a bikini to wear so she can enjoy the summer before kids ruin her life/bring her immense joy.

*Now that you have found your outfit, you scour your closet for shoes and decide on those little black kitten heel sandals you never get to wear.

*You wonder if there is a weight limit for kitten heels.

*After sufficiently testing the weight limitations by wearing kitten heels and doing chores, you finalize your outfit.

*You question why you don't wear kitten heels while doing chores more often because toilet scrubbing should always be this sexy.

*It's the day of the wedding and you go to put on your hot little outfit, only to realize that the spanx are a little more constricting than they were a week ago.

*You return to the ER after passing out only to discover that you need to remember to breathe when putting on spanx. If only there was an annoying leotard clad bouncy instructor to remind you of that (spanx maker - you just lost some of your magical appeal).

*The doctor berates you for your idiocy and warns you to not even think about having any cake at the wedding or he will commit you for your lack of judgement when you return because you pushed the limits of your spanx too far resulting in a spandex explosion.

*You have another panic attack on your way home because you are now envisioning yourself flying through the ballroom like a big fat spanx encased balloon, landing face first into the lap of the trombone player, ass in the air and popped spanx exposed. Thanks Dr. Jackass.

*Jerome (the street corner xanax/jewelry/id specialist) wishes you well at the wedding and tells you he'll be there all night in case of emergency.

*You decide to grab a few extra from Jerome because exposed spanx ass is embarrassing enough. You don't want to be the guest who leaves mid-cake cutting to score. That just seems rude.

*You wear your hot little outfit, spanx and all, and have a really good time.

*You decide that you will get back on track, right after you have that hangover cheeseburger that is a medical necessity.


  1. Haha. Sorry about the panic attack. Sounds like you might have just figured out the best thing for women since the beginning of time.

  2. OMFG

    We got an invitation to an October wedding back in June. No biggie: that gives me four months to get my ass in gear, I thought. I even had a dress in mind in my closet.

    Then? THEN we get a SECOND invitation THIS WEEK for a wedding. NEXT MONTH. Instead of four MONTHS, I have four WEEKS. This does not make me a happy camper.

    I've ordered six dresses from the fat lady section on Sears, and have a pair of high-waist Spanx winging their way to me. I just have to refrain from trying on said dressed without said Spanx.

    Oh, did I mention that I've never met August wedding couple, and have only met October groom three or four times? YEAH. So, on top of clothing angst, dressing up angst, and Fatty McTubO'Lard angst, I also have HOLY FUCKING STRANGER ANGST.

    Do you, uh, think you could mail me some of that Xanax? *shifty eyes*

  3. BAH HA HA HA.

    Story. of. my. life.

    REading this was like looking in the mirror... only funnier :)

    Here's my conclusion...
    The inventor of spanx, not only desinged a very useful and (once covered with clothes) extremely flattering pice of hardware, BUT he/she also made sure that the users were going to burn a few extra calories every time they put them on AND be reminded that they need to eat less cake and more brocoli.

    I build a vicious sweat up evry time I wrestle to get those things over my rather pronounced ass... I have been in two wedding (yes, note the been IN, as in a part of the wedding party... ugh) in the past three weeks and let me tell you how I was petrified that my lard was about to explode out of my spanx and suffocate all those within a 10 foot radius of me....

    it would be a catastrophe.

    oh... and ya, I know, 3 months away and I just come waltzing back into you're blog... I know, I'm sorry....


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