Fashion Fasting

Now, I’m sure a lot of you can relate to this. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stressed myself out just to make sure I fit into THAT dress. Yes, we all have THAT dress. The dress that makes everything look perfect, your boobs, your waist, legs and collar bones. Heck, that dress is so good it even finds a way to make your hair look like you’re in a Pantene advert. You see, the dress is never the problem, I mean, we’ve all agreed that it’s perfection materialised. The problem is that little fanny pack of fat that came from eating too many of those treats at the office. It’s the extra ‘insulation’ you’ve picked up because your mothers been over and she loves to cook. And it’s that ‘oh my god I’m so late for work I’ll just eat this muffin and proceed to eat more crap all day because I’m so stressed’ kind of fat.

*sigh*, I know your struggle. I’ve lived your struggle. In fact, I have a gathering of sorts that I have to attend and I know that I’m carrying way too much holiday weight to wear anything good. Side note: Do you know what I really hate about gaining weight or losing too much weight? It’s when you walk into your closet, go through your clothes and constantly repeat “can’t wear that, not ready. can’t wear that, not ready. can’t wear that, not ready.” In fact, you go through so many clothes that you shorten it to “not ready”. Well, that’s what I’ve been dealing with since I got back from a fabulous Mauritian holiday (where I watched my younger sisters strut their stuff in bikinis while I sat in the shade, fully covered, reading some kind of self help book). Ok, I’m being dramatic. I’m not Bridget Jones. Honestly, I loved my holiday. Between the beautiful views and the beautiful men (who all spoke french might I add), I truly felt right at home.
Back to reality, we can’t fit into our ’THAT’ dress. The “I’m a sex cat” dress. So what do we do? Well, let m tell you what I’ve done in the past. Life has been so kind to me in so many ways. I’ve grown up well, lived well, I have a job I love and family and friends who are all worth writing about BUT, I think my karma comes back in the form of “I know I’m not first in line for heaven but I’m still a good person right?”. I’ve had all kinds of problems. I’ve sat in all kinds of liquids that always seem to make it look like I’ve had more than a little accident. I’ve had nip slips that called more attention than Janet Jackson at the Superbowl, and I’ve had that really embarrassing experience when I wore shoes that were too high and too small forcing me to find a seat at every occasion even when my friends are dancing to my favourite song. This, all in the name of fashion (or so I’ve lead myself to believe).
But, I have to tell you about my worst blunder ever. So I drive down to Durban with a few friends for another friends 21st. We’d all been watching what we ate and were beyond strict with each other. By the time we got on the road, we convinced ourselves that eating a load of junk is tradition when taking a road trip AND the junk we eat now will only start making us fat in like 2 days. I know, anything to rationalise our bad eating habits. Anyway, we arrive at a friends holiday house and rush to get ready because as usual, we were running late. I finally get to put my dress on and I look like the sex cat of all sex cats butttttt, my fanny pack fat pouch looks bigger than I remember it. I panic. My dress was black and it wouldn’t really show that much but I’m a perfectionist so I had to make a plan ASAP.
After running around the house, one heel on and the other in my hand (don’t ask why, i don’t know either, it just happened that way. I was in a sheer state of panic so it’s allowed) my friend suggests I just wear a petticoat. Is that what you call it? You know what I mean right, those ‘hold me suck me don’t let me jiggle’ things? You can get all kinds of them from woolies! They’re AMAZING! So I threw one on and only just made it into the car. I fixed myself as soon as we arrived and I felt amazing. My ass looked perky, my legs looked amazing thanks to my Alexander McQueen heels and all of this was beautifully packaged in a gorgeous Kluk dress. Nothing could go wrong.
The night went on with the normal boring speeches, the one really embarrassing one where everyone’s’ eyes are focused on the parents reaction to hearing that their sweet little boy had more alcohol than blood in his veins. Then of course there was that uncle who talks for too long and ends up talking about some war or whatever. While I struggled to keep myself from stealing a quick siesta, out of the corner of my eye I see my ex. You can imagine how quickly I sat up and straightened my self out to make sure he saw all of my ‘sex catness’ (I know it’s not a word but work with me here). Long story short I end up going to the club with him and a few friends and then end up at his hotel. This is a PG blog so everything was going well until it was that time. But silly me forgot that I have my ‘hold me suck me don’t let me jiggle’ on. I was mortified but also grateful that neither of us were sober because that was embarrassing enough.
So what am I trying to tell you?
  1. Always plan in advance. Know what you plan to wear at least a week before.
  2. When trying on THAT dress, do not bank on it if it doesn’t fit.
  3. If it doesn’t fit, your only chance of fitting into it is complete starvation but we know that never works either because one hour into it you’re already eating a slice of cake that your boss brought to celebrate her birthday.
  4. If it doesn’t fit, go out and start looking for another dress or pick another dress from your family/friends/your own wardrobe. You need to wear something after all.
  5. When trying on your option two, don’t sit on the floor and cry because it doesn’t fit. Asking God and the shopping assistant how you got so fat won’t help you get any thinner (or any closer to finding a dress)
  6. If you feel that your night may end with a sexy time, make sure you take off your ‘hold me suck me don’t let me jiggle’. Note: This is also the time you would take out your chicken cutlets (fake boobs).
I know some of you only read the summary and my conclusion so I’ll make it a good one. There is no win for us. We always have the highest hopes when we first receive that invitation that THAT dress would be prefect for but more often than not, it never works out that way. It’s disappointing but we’re not in Gossip Girl. We’re broke, overweight/underweight, we can count the amount of shoes we deem passable in our closets and more often than not we do a quick shave in the bathroom if we find out we have a chance of meeting someone. Yes, we’re not fabulous but we’re great anyway. We’re real. Real people who deal with the most unimaginable problems. So, take what I say into consideration next time you get a party invitation, if you don’t, you’ll be crying in the bathroom while your best friend and your maths teacher try to sew you back into your matric dance dress. *sigh*, true story.
That’s all
Your Resident Snob

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