Just Say Nah

Well, I got my tiara(and other things) twisted.

Admittedly, I am not a girlie girl. Never have been. Never needed to be. Just this summer I figured out the secret to keeping fingernail polish CONTAINED TO MY NAILS.....I go to someone. However, my aim with anything in my hand is spot on accurate, including wrist rockets, throwing axes, rocks- accurate aim every time. It's impressive, unless you are a mangy coon targeting one of my dogs. Well, Mrs. Tom Boy Thing over here got the lesson of a lifetime.

I bought Spanx.

Being of a certain age, gravity is attacking me at rapid fire rates. We have several formal affairs coming up and I got the bright idea to "polish" my image. I beg to know from all things holy, WHY??? Why do women have a built-in gravitational pull toward torture devices? Is it lingering guilt over the whole apple thing? You would think we would say, "penance paid in full" after back alley tussles with curling irons, flat irons (one more "fish hook" and I will seriously lose my basket!), EYELASH CURLERS, and DIY eyebrow wax kits. But no, some Apple Jack comes up with SHAPEWEAR.

After much deliberation and research (20 minutes I can NEVER get back), I make my selection and hit the Satan-inspired Buy Now button. Two days later, the postman comes hoofing up the driveway with my package. On a side note, we have developed such a nice relationship since the advent of Amazon Buy Now that I am his daughter's Godmother.

I open the package and my immediate thought is, "There must be some mistake. This looks like Michael Jackson's missing glove." No, no mistake. It is designed to fit on my 5'5" frame. Okay.

To my utter delight, there is a little tag that reads "This End Up." WHAT?? Point of clarification, please. If I am a mass on the floor, which end is up? If I am dangling from the ceiling fan, which end is up? Look, if you have never tried putting these things on, do not judge me.

Had anyone witnessed this, they would have sworn I was practicing my break dancing technique with an Anaconda. After expending a month's worth of cardio, I managed to get a leg pulled up. That's where it went all wrong. Increasingly frustrated, I happen to spy Annie and Sierra peering from behind the safety of the door.....I can only imagine what their canine brains are conjuring up. With a crack-like burst of strength, I manage to get the entire 6"x 6" piece of man made hell onto my body. Looking in the mirror I realize that, clearly, the wrong end was up because I look like a sausage stuffing operation gone horribly wrong. Horribly. And then it got worse. I had to pee.

Two hours later, I have decided to buy a sheet and cut a hole in it for my head, slap on matching sandals and go forth with a Take Me As I Am attitude.

Plus, I have sworn off apples.