I cannot catch a break. The stress is overwhelming me. I just deleted and retyped the word break three times because I thought I typed a semicolon, but it turned out there was a spot on the computer screen. My life is hell.
There is a bump on my butt. I realize this is not appropriate conversation, but it’s my blog and I want to whine about the bump on my butt. Deal with it. It’s been there for a week and hasn’t been particularly bothersome, other than it’s there. So last night, in a fit of boredom, I decided to squeeze it. Because everyone knows if you squeeze a bump, goop squirts out and the bump goes away. But I can’t see this bump, so I guess I squeezed it a bit too zealously and it has swelled to epic proportions. I don’t think any goop came out at all and it hurts like hell. Every time I walk, it chafes.
I can’t even go to the doctor to get the thing looked at because Renee and I are friends and you can’t go waving your butt in your friend’s face. Here is a piece of advice: never befriend your family practitioner because then you will be left with no one to help you with your anal boils. I am deeply worried it’s some sort of recurring viral thing…..a rectal wart or something. Probably, I am going to die from it and the Birmingham News will print the whole story: “Local Woman Dies From Anal Abscess After Over-Squeezing Butt Pimple.” Keep me in your prayers, ok?
I went shopping today for a dress. We have to go to a wedding this weekend; Tim is wearing a tux in his starring role as the World’s Oldest Living Groomsman. I figured since he was going to look so spiffy, I ought to dress up too. The problem is I am short and fat. It’s ok to be short and it’s ok to be fat, but the two conditions together are a lethal combination. I can never find clothes that fit; they are either too long, too grannyish, or too tight. I wear a bigger dress size than I do pant size for some weird reason. I think it has something to do with my bosoms. But for it to fit everywhere, it inevitably gapes somewhere and clings elsewhere, making me look pregnant with twenty pound triplets.
All dresses for fat women are the same. Once you reach a certain dress size, all dresses have a floral print. They are constructed of polyester and have no shape whatsoever. God forbid anyone should be subjected to the sight of a bulge. It’s ok to see someone’s rear end hanging out of a pair of low riders, but OH GAG ME if someone has a ripple in their abdomen!! Mind you, I don’t love to see someone stuffed into an outfit three sizes too small, but at least give people the option of clothing that fits!
Anyway, too bad if you hate flowers or polyester, you have no other choices. About 90% of these dresses come with a boxy, shapeless jacket, to conceal the rest of your flab. This smacks of a conservative conspiracy to keep women of size from rising up and squashing the world into submission with their Krispy Kreme enhanced layers of loveliness! Damn George Bush!!
So I wandered morosely up and down the aisles of several stores, butt pimple chafing, flipping through racks of polyester dresses. I tried Stein Mart first, but their clothes scare me. They are ferociously printed, usually with leopard spots or zebra stripes and require more accessorizing than I can possibly muster. The salespeople place an outfit on a mannequin, add two or three scarves, a belt, earrings, bracelets and other acoutrements and it goes without saying that one must purchase every single item to complete the look. So the entire package ends up costing around $573 plus tax. Forget it. I headed to Goody’s.
They have lots of dresses there, but they all fall into the long, gauzy, shapeless, brown category. That’s the other problem with fat dresses; they are always ugly colors. You know, fat people are not color blind. We like to occasionally venture away from brown or black and get crazy and wear a nice taupe or beige! Don’t pigeonhole us!
Anyway, nothing there, so I headed to Ross Dress for Less. Everyone finds stuff at Ross. Everyone except me. I stared in dismay at the racks of floral printed dresses topped with boxy, ugly jackets and sighed. I did find one cute sundress, and I grabbed it. I also decided to try one of those empire waist (or is it baby doll….cut right under the bust and drops down to the knees???) dresses, knowing it would cement my reputation as the carrier of twenty pound triplets. But I was feeling rebellious, overcome with a desire to topple over the tyrannical racks of floral prints and wear a solid!
Well, I got to the dressing room and the sundress turned out to be a size 22 which was not the size the hanger indicated. I could have actually fit all three of the kids into the dress with me. I tried on the other dress, and as predicted, it made me look distressingly maternal. Who in the hell can wear that style without causing gossip?
I gave up and decided to wear the one dress I have in my closet that fits and does not make me look grannyish. To console myself, I bought a cute pair of crop jeans from the fat juniors section. I also bought a baby doll top, knowing that I will get all sorts of smiles from people as they ask me when the baby is due. “Six years ago,” I will snarl at them as I mentally curse them with butt pimples. Now I have to go pack so we can get into the car YET AGAIN and drive four hours with the children. I can hardly contain my joy.