I discovered a shirt in my closet that I hadn't worn in a while.

I wanted to wear it.

So I paired it with a super cute skirt and crazy zebra high heels (which have since bit the dust via the mouth of a little dog with a broken leg named Maybe (the broken leg is not a result of her chewing up my zebra heels, but it should be)).

 The problem with the super cute outfit was that the skirt fit in such a way that it pushed my fat roll up and over (read: it was a bit too snug).

The shirt was not as loose as I generally prefer them, so thereby you could see said fat roll.

 I remembered that I had a corset/girdle thingie in my drawer for occasions such as this.

I had only worn it once due to the comfort factor...or rather the lack thereof, so this meant I had to study it for quite some time before I even knew how to approach the task of attaching it to my roll-y parts.

 Now let me take this moment to inform you that there are not many things that are more humiliating or self-esteem crashing than swimsuit shopping.

Attempting to put on a girdle is one of them.

 Particularly if the girdle is the wrong size.

And even more particularly if it's a smaller wrong size.

  I didn't realize that there was nothing short of a miracle that would allow me to fasten all 14 of the tiny eyelets on this device of torture, so I began to try.

 I wrapped it around my torso and began with the bottom clasp, thinking that since it was so snug I would approach it much like one approaches attaching a trampoline mat....by working from converse sides.

 It went like this, bottom clasp, top clasp, middle clasp.

I was then going to alternate between the clasps until it was closed up and I looked like a size six.

 But because I had to look into the mirror to fasten the clasps I had caught a glimpse of my full self half clasped into a girdle that I then realized was two sizes too small since I remembered purchasing it circa 2000 (in which year I was already a size 6, not striving to suck myself into a size 6).

 I then started laughing.

A lot.

Because what's funnier than seeing yourself jammed into a too small girdle that's not even halfway clasped up?

 Seeing yourself laughing in a too small girdle that's not even halfway clasped up.

That's what.

Take my word for it.

 I looked like a very badly stuffed sausage.

Like someone who worked at the sausage stuffing factory didn't want to work at a sausage stuffing factory, so they kept slipping into daydreams about working as a molecular biologist and missed the little pieces of sausage that were hanging out that they were supposed to shove back in as it went by on the conveyor belt.

I laughed so hard I began to fear that one of the snaps was going to fly off, ricochet off my mirror and maim me, so I sobered up and unhooked myself.

I went ahead with the white shirt and skirt, though my self-esteem had plummeted to new lows, the only upside being that I now knew the white shirt with Brandi stuffed inside it looked much better than the white shirt with a sausage-stuffed-being inside it.

And that, dear friends, is why trying on a girdle that is two sizes too small for you is worse than swimsuit shopping.

The end.

B

PS--This girl reminds me of Mandy Moore.

You can see the rest of this session here under "Chelsea Senior".