I've been on my running/no sweet tea plan long enough to safely assume that my muffin top is not going to deflate any more than it has at this current caloric intake at which I'm comfortable.  I mean, you can have my tea and I may jog a bit but I will NOT go hungry.  And I've decided that, even when I lose weight, it's in all the wrong places.  For example, my, once, bird legs become crane-like, the spindliest of all bird legs, while my muffin top remains largely intact. 

So, feeling that I'd done as much as I could do, I decided to load up the mother of the bride dress and my new shoes (which I'm so excited about) and go get it altered.  That way, I'd be locked in to this size and wouldn't be tempted to quit running mailboxes or fall off the wagon and roll into McAlister's for Free Tea Day which is, coincidentally, today.

I was in the alterations shop for about 45 minutes while she pinned and pinned and pinned.  It looked so good when she was finished.  Listen, when she gets done, that dress will fit me like a glove.  A latex glove.  So, last night, Blair and I headed to Dillard's to see what kind of shaping undergarments I might need to invest in for such a time as this.   

I spoke to the saleslady and, as we stood amongst the wide swath of spandex and nylon, I discussed my disappointment with the higher power.  Not the Good Lord, of course, but my Spanx higher power for which I'd held such high hopes.  I just didn't think that it was going to get the job done for me.  She agreed that it wasn't her go-to either and pointed me in the direction of the girdles.  I'd never worn a girdle before but was impressed with what felt like pressure treated studs in its frame and taut elastic covering.  Oh, yes.  This is what the muffin top needed, I agreed. 

I found my size and headed into the dressing room.  Since I'd never put on one before, I wasn't sure how it would go but I can tell you that eating Mexican food right before a girdle fitting probably isn't ideal.  I mean, it was like wanting to return a comforter set you'd bought for your bed but couldn't, for the life of you, figure out how to get that big, bulky thing back in that little bag in which it came. 

Well, I wrapped it around me best I could to try and get it started.  It got away from me a couple of times before I could get that first hook done.  Oh, all the hooks.  It was like trying to fasten 40 bras at one time.  But with every hook, I was transforming into a new woman.  Yes, a woman who couldn't exhale and whose blood flow was cut off to her liver and kidneys but a more shapely woman with less quesadilla in the middle.  And who needs respiration and organs when you've got that?

Next, I was onto finding the perfect bra.  My dress comes down in the back and it just has lace on the shoulders and so I was going to need some kind of creative bra solution for that.  The nice lady directed me over to the strapless bras with clear, sticky-on side panels which can be used up to 26 times for a no-show result.  Wait, what?  So many womanly things out there which lie outside my realm of knowledge. 

This might be a good time to mention that Davis was gone to the tux rental store about 13 minutes, the last time we were in New Orleans, and with about 5 swipes of the measuring tape, he'd secured everything he'd need for the day.  Unlike myself who's been traipsing all over the state piecing this complicated puzzle together which is women's wear. 

Well, the middle-aged woman fun doesn't stop there.  Last week, a friend and I were having lunch and we fell into a discussion about our newfound eyebrow problems.  They're disappearing.  Nobody ever told me about this.  I guess it's not something my mother thought she should give me a heads up on.  "Now, darlin', one day, your eyebrows are just gonna fall slam out and you'll be left to figure out how to draw those suckers back on." 

I've always prided myself in my thick, robust eyebrows.  I got those from my Daddy.  It's probably not every little girl's dream to have her father's eyebrows but he did give me a lot to work with in that department even if they did require the upkeep equivalent to an English garden. 

Anyway, we sat there trying to figure out if they were just graying and becoming lighter or if they were actually falling out.  Either way, they didn't show up like they once did and that was troubling to us.  We didn't want to become one of those women with two brown marker-like lines drawn in the blank space over each eye.   

Don't fret, though.  Blair to the rescue with just the right eyebrow pencil from Ulta and free hands on tutorials, so all's well that ends well.

Women.  Bless our little hearts.  Nothing is simple for us.  It's just not.  Men will never understand how complicated it is to be us with their waistbands and belts keeping things cinched in and their bushy eyebrows that grow together in the middle..........and then out their noses and ears.

Ok, well, maybe they've got their own problems.




Y'all have a good day!