Shapewear, Headbands, and Other Bad Ideas on a Friday Night

Shapewear, Headbands, and Other Bad Ideas on a Friday Night

 

Three hook and eye closures stand between  my very full bladder and the toilet. I hike up my unforgiving sequined miniskirt and contort into a stance usually reserved for heavy lifting. My four inch platform ankle booties actually provide some helpful leverage, but balancing (as I grasp at my groin with increasing urgency) quickly becomes problematic.  I silently give gratitude that this particular bar has a private bathroom and with one flamboyant maneuver, finally release the bra style closure at my crotch.

 

 

The body shaping onesy with the "freedom release bottom" had seemed like such a good idea in the store. I usually stay away from such items because they're uncomfortable, inconvenient, and I don't really need them, but something about this product spoke to me. It was at a discount overstock clothing store out in the boonies of northern central Vermont at which I have made many fine purchases over the years. I felt the warm inner-glow of a bargain well found as I pushed my items over the counter to the dour cashier. The black sequined mini-skirt was both playful and edgy without being too super short. The sequins were cut into little rectangles which were only sewn on the top so they hung and jangled about like chunky tinsel. Although the tags were cut out I was able to glean from the care label that it was originally sold by Forever 21. The "Sliminizer" ("Oprah's Shapewear!") was a leotard of sorts in a rich brown with a flattering plunging neckline and the aforementioned bra-style closure at the crotch. "Only $12?," I thought in my special head voice reserved for frenzied deal hunting, "Why not? And $9 for the skirt??!! No need to try these on! Let's buy them NOW!" And so I did along with several other less exciting but more practical items.  I brought my treasures home and squirreled them away for the perfect debut opportunity.

 

Tonight I am out in the very hip town of Montpelier, Vermont. For those of you not familiar with Montpelier, that was a sarcastic remark. The bar is one that would like to consider itself upscale but seems to be full of sock-footed, noodling hippies most of the time. The occasion is my role as a "special guest vocalist" at my father's musical engagement (otherwise known as a "gig" to all the hepcats out there). I have my shapewear on over some rockin two-toned tights with my black mini and a purple silk blouse with slightly poofed sleeves and a jaunty tie at the neck. I actually curled my hair a bit and am wearing a headband with a broad silver bow  fastened to it.  To be honest, I look awesome. As long as I stand upright and keep my range of motion limited, that is. The construction of the skirt, it turns out, may be of questionable integrity. The sequins are  sewn onto a flimsy non-stretch fabric which makes the garment almost impossible to move in or get over my hips in either direction. My headband is giving me a headache but if I remove it my meticulously designed hairstyle will be ruined. The shapewear, while not entirely uncomfortable and doing a bang-up job of flattening my tummy, constricts my bladder.  I have to pee about 30% more frequently and  doing so is about 300% more difficult.

 

Which brings me back to the bathroom stall where I have now relieved myself and am faced with the task of refastening the three hook and eye closures which are so difficult to line up you would think they were magnetized against one another. Finally, at least one of the closures pops into place, which is good enough for me at the moment, so I straighten up triumphantly and coerce my skirt back down over my butt. I emerge quietly  into the dim-lit room and take solice in knowing that no one ever has to know what just went on, and what will go on at least 3 more times before the end of the night. I could take the garment off, I suppose, but I am determined to get my $12 worth.