She Thinks

Until recently (I swear!) I had no idea there was such a plethora of undergarments available to women.

And now that I know, I am SOLD!

And quite frankly…I don’t know how I lived without them for so many years!  You can literally transform your body in any number of ways using hundreds of new body shaping garments.  I swear there’s one for every conceivable shaping need or want for your body.

You can lift, separate or push together your breasts using strapped, strapless, wired, no wire, padded, unpadded, plunging, high profiled, lacy or plain bras.

You can push up your tush, flatten it, round it out, or add to it.  You can flatten your tummy, cinch in your waist, and slim your thighs.  And…you can do only one of these things at a time, use different combinations at the same time, or pick one of those handy dandy multi-shaping garments that focus on specific “target” areas to provide you with an All Over shaped body.

Or so I thought.

Recently, we had a Bar Mitzvah to attend and several women in the family (well…really just me, one of my cousins, and, at times, a reluctant Ally) were consumed by discussions of which undergarments were available and would be PERFECT for each of our outfits.  We spent hours on the phone, texting or emailing different styles, brands and configurations of undergarments as we each shopped and explored what was available to meet our needs.

Clearly…we had way too much time on our hands.

I planned to wear a lovely black dress with a shocking pink liner (from my closet – woohoo!) that had a form fitting bodice (that’s body shaping terminology for “upper body”) which required (in order for it to fit me properly) something that would cinch in my waist and hold in my tummy.

BUT…I also needed something to push up these ever lowering breasts (NO…they are NOT drooping yet thank you very much!) so they would peak over the fabric to give a hint of cleavage (realizing that this look would be acceptable for both the synagogue and the after party).

THEN…I wanted to lift and smooth my tush so that the fabric of the dress would lay seamlessly in that area, while slimming my thighs and still allowing the dress to swirl effortlessly on the dance floor.

SO… I decided to look for one of those multi-area shaping garments that target different areas of your body to meet all of my body shaping needs in one fell swoop.

No problem…until I went shopping.

Apparently, the undergarment makers of the world like to focus on two, MAYBE three “target” areas on the body at one time…but usually not six.

No such luck.

But, being the resourceful person that I am, I came up with the amazing idea to COMBINE undergarments to cover all of my needs.  I mean, is that brilliant or what?

So I went looking for bra to lift me up, a corset-like thing to cinch in my waist, and a full (really full) panty to lift up and smooth out my tush, hold in my tummy and slim down my thighs.

I am pleased to report I found all three!

But when I put them all on together…I couldn’t move.  And I looked like I was wearing Body Armor.  And, bending was a complete impossibility.  And, breathing was more than difficult.  And…here comes the deal breaker…dancing would have been totally out of the question.

So I took them all off and started to negotiate with myself.  It was clear that I couldn’t wear all 3 pieces at the same time, so I decided I had to pick the most important parts to shape for the event.

OMG!  Which parts are more important for a dressy event?  The tummy?  The tight cinched-in waist? The peaking cleavage?  The raised and smooth tush?  Slim thighs?

I ask you…can being a woman be any more challenging??

I ended up finding two items that successfully achieved some significant body shaping in 4 out of the 6 areas (no, I’m not telling which ones).  And I was happy…enough.  But I wasn’t comfortable.  But that didn’t bother me because according to the rules my mother laid out for me when I was young and impressionable: dressing for an event is not supposed to be about comfort.  So I didn’t expect to be comfortable.

But that’s just wrong.  Why shouldn’t we be both beautiful AND comfortable!?!

Well…I’m happy to tell you that now we can be both.

After the Bar Mitzvah, Ally introduced me to an undergarment (by Yummie Tummie) that she found awhile ago that she loved!  Then they sent me one!  It hits at least 5 of my target areas (no I’m not telling you which one it doesn’t touch) and is pretty damn comfortable and pretty.

I practically live in it.

FINALLY!!!!

*Note: Let’s be clear.  Part of my enthusiasm in finding the perfect body shaper is that I really thought I could get that perfect looking body without doing a damn thing on my own to make it happen.  I mean seriously…why else would I go through all the trouble to bolster my body in all that armor?  Answer: so I could get the look without doing any of the work!  And…I don’t think I’m alone here…but we all know it doesn’t really work that way.  Damn it.

I SWORE out loud – to myself, that I would NOT put off writing this week’s post to the last minute.  I mean come on…you can see what the topic is.  I made a pact with myself when Ally and I agreed to write on Procrastination at the beginning of the week, that I would not (absolutely not) fall into the trap of putting this task off until the last minute.  As I usually do.  Every week.

It is now Sunday afternoon…and I have 4 hours before Ally will send me her reminder text that my post is due.  So I’m still HOURS ahead of the game!

I’m such a procrastinator.  I know I do it, and it bugs me to do it.  But I can’t help it.

I blame my father.

He was the “King” of procrastination and I think he must have genetically passed it on to me.

At first glance, you’d never know that he was a procrastinator because he would write extensive lists detailing out all the tasks he had to accomplish every week.  He would write out each task in bold large printed letters – all in neat and numbered rows on a yellow legal pad, and label his list “Things to Do” at the top of the page.

And then he would move onto whatever else he could possibly spend his time doing…OTHER than those things on the list.

It’s not that he was lazy.  On the contrary, he was extremely successful and busy all the time.  He just seemed to have an absolute aversion to doing things he knew he had to do…until the very last minute.

Which I think is the definition of someone who procrastinates.  It’s not that we don’t get stuff done, it’s just that we want to do it on our own damn timeline!!

In this regard, I am my dad.

I too make lists.  I too title them “Things to Do.”  And I too have a long history of putting things off until the last minute.

But unlike my dad, I like crossing things off my list…a lot.

So I’ve learned to use my desire (no…obsession) to cross things off my list as a way to balance my genetic tendency to procrastinate.

And I do it by playing a sick little game with myself.

Every week I write my list of Things to Do, and each day I go about my business of getting stuff done.  At the end of the week I go back to my list to see if I just happen to have completed anything I had written down.  If so…VOILA!…it gets crossed off the list and I am thrilled.

If not, (here’s the sick part)…I add the stuff I did do, just so I can cross it off!

Case in Point.

This week’s list.

Here’s how it went…

Things To Do:

1.     Write my blog post on Procrastination

2.     Clean out the basement closet

3.     Reorganize all of the Xmas decorations from the past 25 years

4.     Figure out all of the furnishings for the house I’m building (all 8 rooms)

5.     Clean the backyard and prep for fall/winter

6.     Take all 4 dogs to the vet for required shots

Things I actually did:

1.     Fed the dogs – twice a day…each day!

2.     Folded all of my laundry…from last week.

3.     Shredded paperwork from the box titled Important papers 2006

4.     Made my bed – each morning.

5.     Made chicken salad.

Now my list looks like this:

1.     Write my blog post on Procrastination

2.     Clean out the basement closet

3.     Reorganize all of the Xmas decorations from the past 25 years

4.     Figure out all of the furnishings for the house I’m building (all 8 rooms)

5.     Clean the backyard and prep for fall/winter

6.     Take all 4 dogs to the vet for required shots

7. Fed the dogs – twice a day…each day!

8. Folded all of my laundry…from last week.

9. Shredded paperwork from the box titled – Important papers 2006

10. Made my bed – each morning.

11. Made chicken salad.

It’s now almost 1:00 on Sunday afternoon and I’m done writing this post…3 whole hours ahead of schedule!   And now, I get to cross #1 off my list!

I’m thrilled.

And I’m thrilled to be my father’s daughter.

I’m almost embarrassed to admit it…but when I watch the commercials for DSW my heart begins to race and I find it a bit difficult to breath.  I don’t know if it’s that jazzy/Latin style music they play, or the flashing of various styles of shoes appearing on my TV screen.  But I truly begin to hyperventilate.

It’s not something I’m proud of.

Maybe I’m sick.

Maybe I’ve developed low blood pressure due to shoe intoxication.

I don’t know…and I don’t care.  I just want to rush out to DSW (or any other store selling shoes) and see what magical shoe wants to jump off the shelf into my arms for that day.

But that is now…and it’s important to know that I wasn’t always so excited about shoes.  When I was much younger, I cared about boys, not shoes (I had no idea at the time how incredibly linked the two were), and…I didn’t do outfits.  I did jeans and T-shirts and usually grabbed whatever shoes were closest to the front of my closet so that I didn’t have to exert much energy to find them when running out the door.

Then I got a job.

And, I began to interact with people who seemed to get up in the morning and put their clothes on in a “meaningful way”…including their shoes.

I was fascinated.

I remember shopping for my first grown-up work clothes in catalogs such as Newport News and Spiegel and they would show brightly colored two piece suits with matching colored high heel “pumps.”*  A turquoise suit with turquoise pumps…a peach suit with peach pumps.  It was a virtual sherbet sundae of working woman clothing…and I couldn’t wait to eat it up.

(For those who are unfamiliar with the classic “pump” style…it is a simple design that has endured over decades, promising to elongate the leg, slim down even the thickest of ankles, and guarantee any number of foot ailments due to years of squeezing five toes into a narrow pointed section of leather at the bottom of a 45 degree angle.)

I quickly learned that shoes came in other styles besides turquoise or peach colored pumps and couldn’t seem to get enough shoes into my life (or into my closet).  I started buying shoes in every combination of shapes, heel heights and colors.  Some worked.  Some didn’t.  But through it all, I began to develop a knack for figuring out which style of shoe would best compliment each piece of clothing in my close and how to build an “outfit” using shoes as the anchor piece.

I was in heaven!  I was struttin’ down the street in classic loafers with rolled up jeans, or wowing business associates with subtle yet classy pumps (no more turquoise for this lady!) or tempting my man to take me out (and back home for a “lovely” night) with a pair of drop dead stilettos that made my legs look like they came out of my shoulders.

Each pair of shoes had a specific purpose that was expressly stated when combined with the appropriate outfit.  As I walked into a room, you would instantly know what I was saying…like,  “take me seriously at work” -or “I may be a mom, but I’m still a sexy momma!” – or – “let’s walk on dirt”…you get the idea.

It was a great system and I loved the challenge of figuring out what shoe would best express the purpose at hand.

And then…I developed bunions.

On both feet.

And had to stop wearing 99% of the shoes in my closet.

I experienced my first ever serious shoe slump.  Following surgery on both feet at the same time, I was relegated to a pair of large, clunky, foam filled, Velcro closing, open toed “bunion boots”…for 6 WEEKS!

As I sunk into a deep shoe withdrawal depression, my doctor explained that at the end of the 6 weeks, I should have at the ready, a pair of …(it’s hard for me to say these words) … “sensible shoes.”

I had no idea what he was talking about.  It took me the full 6 weeks to figure it out.  Finally, I found a pair of shoes I could walk comfortably in for the next year.

And, they were kind of cute.

No…not really.

They were wide, and brown, and flat and boring.  But they didn’t hurt.

It took 12 months, 3 weeks and 4 days before I was able to get my feet into a new cute shoe.

You would think that during this time (including the years of pain leading up to the bunions and resulting surgery) I would have been cured of my serious shoe addiction.  But no.

Instead, it taught me an important lesson…that with both patience and perseverance, I could search out new styles, heel heights and colors that could still be DROP DEAD perfect, but…with a bit of moderation (that would mean no more 4″ heels), they didn’t actually have to cause any more bodily harm.

I WAS FREE AGAIN!  Free to once again start buying cute (and sometimes still comfortable) shoes.  Free to re-embrace the challenge of building great outfits while allowing my shoes to state the purpose of my day as I walked into a room.

And free to let the joy and excitement creep back into my life as a new DSW commercial aired on TV.