Marshmallowness

The Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man is my twin brother. I am not embarrassed by this. It just means that I am soft, sweet and very white unless I am red in the face from exertion.

I recently bought a pair of the Target equivalent of Spanx, a long leg (above the knee) contraption to smooth out flab.

It was warm Saturday. I proceeded to pull up the Spanx wannabe to mid thigh without breaking a sweat. Going the rest of the way was another story. Being right handed, I apparently pulled harder with my right hand than my left, resulting in the seam from the crotch to the waistband skewing to side. By the time I took care of this, I was beginning to glisten, and not in a good way.

I put my dress on and thought the Spanx-wannabe did an ok job but it wasn't exactly the miracle that TV and print ads promise from similar products. It was much more comfortable than an old fashion girdle, not bothering me in the leg at all. My dress was dark and I had hoped to get by without a slip since it was opaque. I am assuming most of you are old enough to remember slips.

Standing up was fine. I sat down to buckle a shoe and stood back up and discovered that the knit dress and knit Spanx-ette had formed an unattractive bond. My butt looked like a topographical display of an inner city freeway exchange. Darn. I added a slip. Better, but definitely warmer.

Sitting down again to fuss with my hair and makeup, I looked down as far as my mirrored image allowed. Uh-oh.......Those darn print and TV ads always show the before and after photos of a model STANDING. You know why? When you compress your marshmallowness, it has to go somewhere. I should have bought the Spanx-ette that went up to the band of my bra so that my boobs could have gone up a few sizes. Instead I had a jelly roll that was not attractive when seated.

Off came the wannabe, off came the slip, and off I went to the graduation party wearing regular ole panties that have a silky finish that allowed the dress to swish around my ampleness. The red in my face dissipated by the time we reached the party.

On the way home, my sweet husband told me that I was aging well. Stay Puff people don't have wrinkled faces. Good thing he likes sweets, isn't it?