The other night I went to Northpoint Mall in search of an after Christmas sale. I parked on the Sears Automotive side because there’s always ample parking on that side of the mall. You’ve seen the news about Sears, so you can deduce the reasons why.
As I exited the department store doors, I saw a bright pink shop to my left.
Huh. I got a little closer and saw that they were selling corsets – coffee brown and black corsets. The woman standing in front of the shop was munching on sunflower seeds and looked extremely bored. I noted that she herself looked rather skinny, and that a woman so thin would not be in need of a corset. I decided then that she was disingenuous and continued on my way to Macy’s.
But for some reason, I couldn’t get those dreary looking corsets off my mind. I went to bed with the contraptions on my mind, wondering if I too could garner a “fabulous figure” after its purchase. You see, I have a kangaroo belly, which is what many women are left with after a c-section. I’ve had 4, which has rendered my core completely shattered.
My liver is here.
My pancreas is here.
and my lungs are here…
The little I know about biology tells me that all my vital organs are not only in the wrong order, but have not retained their proper spacing. Perhaps this corset was the key to getting some semblance of my figure back? Two days later, when I could bear it no longer, I went to enquire about the pricing.
The dark haired girl that I saw earlier in the week was on duty again.
“Hello,” I smiled nervously. “I’d like to ask about your corsets.”
“These are girdles,” she said in a heavy Hispanic accent.
“But they are better than corsets. Would you like to try one on?” she asked.
She directed me to their line-up and asked me what I was looking for.
“Just something to tuck in my mid-section,” I said non-committedly. Somehow, I felt like I was at a used car shop. There were no sticker prices on anything, and that always makes me nervous.
The sales girl asked me to lift up my sweater so she could judge what size I might be.
“I think you may be a large,” she assessed.
“No, no. I’m an 18/20,” I corrected. “I’m an XL at least.”
She nodded her head and produced and blue plastic bag from one of her drawers.
“You can go in here and try this on. When your clothes are off, you let me know.”
Huh? She surely didn’t mean what I thought she said. I walked into the room and disrobed. It was a 5×5 space with a huge mirror lining the whole wall. I noted with dismay that my large thighs were horribly ashen and that my deodorant had caked under my pits. I was SO glad that the girl wasn’t in the room with –
“Oh! Your clothes are off. Good,” said the Hispanic girl as she stepped into the cramped space with me. “Now what you have to do is step into the garment. You’re going to hear it snap. It’s okay.”
She was standing so close. I felt really uncomfortable with her proximity, to say the least, but I tried to play it off. I dutifully stepped into the girdle and pulled. It didn’t budge.
“Shake it!” she commanded.
“Shake your fat. Like this!”
She shifted her hips from side to side. I mimicked her.
“Ah ha!” she said in approval.
Once I had the Lycra over my hips she got on her knees and began fastening it with deft and nimble fingers. I was very impressed. For the new few moments, we snapped, shifted and shook my body fat into the tiny garment. It was very much like stuffing a king sized comforter into a ring box. At last we were done. Wow…. What a difference! I was sold – that is, until I had to pee.
“How do I get this thing off when I have to go to the bathroom?” I said mournfully.
“When you wear it, you wear a thong. Then if you have to pee, you pull the thong aside.” She swept her hand across her crotch, moving her imaginary thong away from the stream of her imaginary pee.
A thong and a girdle at the same time? No can do. The worry I felt must have registered on my face. Ms. Hispanic then suggested that I wear my normal underwear ON TOP of the girdle.
“Oh. Okay! I can do that,” I sighed happily. “So how much do they cost?”
I let out a sharp breath. We were still confined to the cramped quarters, and I’m sure she didn’t appreciate the assail to her nostrils. I hadn’t eaten all day.
“You put your clothes on and we’ll discuss the price. I give you discount.”
After I released my body mass from the unnatural confinement, Talia (who shared her name with my after I handed over my MasterCard) gave me a $20 discount and told me that I was in luck. My purchase came with a box of slimming tea. I took it reluctantly. I had a bad (explosive) experience with “slimming tea” from China. I thanked her wryly.
So what do you think folks? Was it worth it? I’ll answer for you: Yes! There are few things scarier than an walrus in a slinky dress.