The Devil Wore Prada (and Jeggings, Apparently)
Like any former shopaholic on a tight budget, I found myself itching to buy a few things for my California trip this weekend. It’s supposed to be about fifty degrees warmer there on Sunday alone so this was the perfect excuse to shop. Really I don’t need a reason, though, now, do I?
I’ve been wanting to try skinny jeans or jeggings and I found the perfect magenta long sweater at Goodwill (new with tags, score!) to wear with them. I headed to TJ Maxx and grabbed several things to try on while I was there, but I had limited time before the girls would be home from school with my neighbor. It was time to play beat the clock. I locked the dressing room door and scanned the items before I settled on a time efficient strategy. I tried on a sweater dress first but wasn’t that crazy about it and then I tried on some really comfortable black leggings in an almost sweater type fabric. These were great and a definite must buy.
I decided to tackle the jeggings last since they were intimidating me in all their jeggings glory. I glanced at them and realized I’d grabbed a size small. While I am not a large person, I am a grown forty-one-year-old woman who is at least ten pounds heavier than what she was five years ago when, thanks to the miracle of lactation, she got pretty slim after the birth of her second baby. Hurrah!
Because I’m some sort of dressing room sadist, I decided to try them on any way.
Not realizing these jeggings were made out of some sort of skin sucking lycra denim fabric hand loomed by Satan’s minions themselves, I found myself struggling to get them past my ankles. I knew I was screwed when I could barely coerce them over my CALVES. These jeggings were the circulation cut off equivalent of those Chinese finger catcher gag toys. I started to panic. I could not peel them off my lower legs so I started to peel them UP my legs and once I got a little traction and moved them past my knees I thought I could just get a little leverage going and then rip them off my body in one fell swoop, even if it meant ripping them and paying for them.
I HAD TO GET OUT OF THE JEGGINGS but I was firmly in their hold. I finally got them up to just past the crack of my butt and realized that these made me look like I had not a traditional mama muffin top, but a full on box of hot steaming donuts top. Every spare ounce of skin on my legs and thighs and butt was being sucked up and spilling over the waistband. I felt like a denim Sharpei.
These were like Spanx on steroids. I was certain I’d have burn marks on my skin if they would ever release me.
I somehow determinedly peeled them off my legs, nearly fell tripping over myself just trying to get my feet released, and decided that jeggings were not in my immediate future should I want to be able to regain full use of my legs.
I did consider for a split second buying them just so I could set them on fire.
Originally published at BlondeMomBlog.com