I've been trying to get creative with the wardrobe this week since I'm kind of pushing my jeans to the brink of their capacity. I mean, it's so bad, one pair of jeans left me a suicide note in the dryer. Anyway, I've been trying to find some things in my wardrobe that don't cut my waist in half and stick to my legs like a wet suit. Today's choice was a dress I purchased months ago. I ordered it on-line. It looked really good on the skinny girl in the fat girl catalog, so I bought it. The problem is, it hits just above the knees, which is fine, except I have knee back fat. I hate the backs of my knees. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, why couldn't I have gotten the extra fat in my boob area instead of in bad places like the backs of my knees? Ok, so I'm digressing again. So, anyway, I considered my options, cut in half, or showing fat knees? I decided fat knees weren't so bad. My internal organs would thank me later.
Now, to complete the ensemble, just to be safe, I wore some tights to distract from my ghost white legs and then, I needed to make sure the upper body had the proper amount of support, so I put on a kind of Pranx that is like a tank top, but cuts under your boobs, so as not to smoosh the little boobs you do have down. It actually lifts them up. This type of Pranx is called Secret Solutions per the tag on the back. (If you do not know what Pranx are, please refer to blog called Cassondra vs. Pranx on June 27th)
I got to work and was walking around, things were going ok and then the rolling started. The tights were rolling down and the Pranx were rolling up. It looked like I had piping around my waist and below my boobs. I went into the bathroom and fixed the situation. This time I tried the tights under the Pranx as opposed to the other way around. I walked around some more, doing the occasional tug and pull. Finally, things got bad. I felt like a sausage that had been put in the microwave too long and sausage bits were oozing out. Nobody wants a silohette like Frosty the Snowman. Nobody. I went into the bathroom, the most ghetto place on earth. I went into the least disgusting stall and tried to get my dress over my head. I needed these Secret Solutions off. Turns out the secret is, if you take it off, that's the solution. Anyway, I've got my arms up and I'm tugging at the dress. The Pranx are rolling up and pushing my bra up. Crap. I'm stuck. I realize this could be serious. How exactly do I summon someone to come help me? I mean, the gal in the stall next to me was brewing something special because not one sound was coming out of there. She was camping. She was of no use to me. I struggled some more. I'm standing there, black tights, bare belly, a bra threatening to go North and my arms are stuck above my head and the bulk of my dress is around my shoulders. Please don't let me get stuck in this godforsaken place half naked. I'm making all kinds of noise, grunting is happening and I'm starting to panic. It won't go up, won't go down. Shit. Finally, a breakthrough. My badge goes flying off and to the floor behind the toilet. Apparently it had been holding something up as it was clipped to the strappy belt thing around my waist. Damn it!! At least it didn't go into the camper's stall. I knew I should have brought scissors. Always bring scissors where Pranx are involved.
I finally got the dress off and I thought, this is exactly how clothes get left in the bathrooms. People just give up. I rolled the Pranx off and put my dress back on. I picked up my badge and walked out of there with all the elegance of a queen. I walked over to the counter and set my Pranx down with my infected badge. I washed my hands and a gal walked in and eyed the counter. I raised one eyebrow and lifted my chin just a little, daring her to question what was going on. She decided not to ask and proceeded to magical stall number four, next to the camper. Still no activity from stall number three. I hope she is okay in there. Maybe she is stuck...I shook my head and got that image out, what I don't know doesn't hurt me. I'm sure the camper was wondering what the hell I was doing. Anyway, I balled up my Pranx and walked to my desk feeling roll free and confident. And that's when my tights started rolling down again. One battle at a time, my friends, one battle at a time. I was not taking my tights off, I would just have to suck it up and carry on, like all compressed fat girls do.
I would like to send a message to all manufacturers of spandex and fat-fighting apparatuses: If you can create a fat compressing product that doesn't roll, I will sacrifice all of my pony minions. It's that serious. Go. Invent. Now. Please.
Now, to complete the ensemble, just to be safe, I wore some tights to distract from my ghost white legs and then, I needed to make sure the upper body had the proper amount of support, so I put on a kind of Pranx that is like a tank top, but cuts under your boobs, so as not to smoosh the little boobs you do have down. It actually lifts them up. This type of Pranx is called Secret Solutions per the tag on the back. (If you do not know what Pranx are, please refer to blog called Cassondra vs. Pranx on June 27th)
I got to work and was walking around, things were going ok and then the rolling started. The tights were rolling down and the Pranx were rolling up. It looked like I had piping around my waist and below my boobs. I went into the bathroom and fixed the situation. This time I tried the tights under the Pranx as opposed to the other way around. I walked around some more, doing the occasional tug and pull. Finally, things got bad. I felt like a sausage that had been put in the microwave too long and sausage bits were oozing out. Nobody wants a silohette like Frosty the Snowman. Nobody. I went into the bathroom, the most ghetto place on earth. I went into the least disgusting stall and tried to get my dress over my head. I needed these Secret Solutions off. Turns out the secret is, if you take it off, that's the solution. Anyway, I've got my arms up and I'm tugging at the dress. The Pranx are rolling up and pushing my bra up. Crap. I'm stuck. I realize this could be serious. How exactly do I summon someone to come help me? I mean, the gal in the stall next to me was brewing something special because not one sound was coming out of there. She was camping. She was of no use to me. I struggled some more. I'm standing there, black tights, bare belly, a bra threatening to go North and my arms are stuck above my head and the bulk of my dress is around my shoulders. Please don't let me get stuck in this godforsaken place half naked. I'm making all kinds of noise, grunting is happening and I'm starting to panic. It won't go up, won't go down. Shit. Finally, a breakthrough. My badge goes flying off and to the floor behind the toilet. Apparently it had been holding something up as it was clipped to the strappy belt thing around my waist. Damn it!! At least it didn't go into the camper's stall. I knew I should have brought scissors. Always bring scissors where Pranx are involved.
I finally got the dress off and I thought, this is exactly how clothes get left in the bathrooms. People just give up. I rolled the Pranx off and put my dress back on. I picked up my badge and walked out of there with all the elegance of a queen. I walked over to the counter and set my Pranx down with my infected badge. I washed my hands and a gal walked in and eyed the counter. I raised one eyebrow and lifted my chin just a little, daring her to question what was going on. She decided not to ask and proceeded to magical stall number four, next to the camper. Still no activity from stall number three. I hope she is okay in there. Maybe she is stuck...I shook my head and got that image out, what I don't know doesn't hurt me. I'm sure the camper was wondering what the hell I was doing. Anyway, I balled up my Pranx and walked to my desk feeling roll free and confident. And that's when my tights started rolling down again. One battle at a time, my friends, one battle at a time. I was not taking my tights off, I would just have to suck it up and carry on, like all compressed fat girls do.
I would like to send a message to all manufacturers of spandex and fat-fighting apparatuses: If you can create a fat compressing product that doesn't roll, I will sacrifice all of my pony minions. It's that serious. Go. Invent. Now. Please.
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