The Perilous Pee-Hole

I am almost thirty-six years old with a deep, abiding love for carbohydrates and have birthed four children - the last one via an emergency C-section, which left me with an unfortunate flap of skin hanging over my scar. CUTE. Needless to say, my figure over the years has transmogrified into something less "girlish" and more "girthish." Not like when I was twenty-one and could pinch a one-inch roll of extra skin and thought it was fat.

*goes back in time to slap 21-year-old self*

So recently I had the pleasure of attending my best guy friend's fancy-schmancy black tie wedding. And after I consulted the Internet to make sure I did not, in fact, have to actually wear a black tie, I chose my dress. A floor-length, form-fitting dress. A dress that, while gorgeous, was not especially forgiving when it came to exposing my various lumps and bumps and flaps. So I did what any lumpy, bumpy, flappy thirtysomething would do: I bought a pair of Spanx.

Now, I've had shapewear before. But it was always cheap, like six-bucks-from-Walmart-cheap. And I've heard Spanx are on a whole other level when it comes to flesh compression. This fancy wedding called for some fancy underthings, y'all. So here's what I got.

Image via Kohl's.

(Side note: DOES THIS WOMAN EVEN LOOK LIKE SHE NEEDS SPANX?! There's, like, nothing to spank. It's like she's pushing her stomach out to make it appear as though she has something to hold in. Or is that a hipbone? Anyway ...)

I got the big, boob-height ones because I wanted to make sure all the fat didn't squish up and make some sort of weird roll around my rib cage.

When you buy fancy fat-squeezing pants, you apparently get extra amenities that knockoff Spanx lack: namely, A PEE HOLE. A convenient opening, right in the crotch, which would apparently enable you to pee without having to wrestle the Spanx down like a walrus in a wetsuit. I was intrigued. (Also: fresh air to the lady-parts. Thank you sweet baby Jesus.)

The day before the wedding, I shimmied (okay - more like grunted, tugged, and heaved) my way into the Spanx for a test run. I wanted to see how they felt - but more importantly, I wanted to see if the pee hole would make it easy to "go" while encased in my shapewear sheath. I briefly canvassed the Internet for tips, but oddly, there's a huge lack of advice out there for successful peeing while Spanxsed. Go figure.

I squat-straddled the toilet, widening my stance as best I could, and gingerly held one side of the pee-hole out of the way with a crooked finger. But something told me even that wouldn't prevent me from soiling my Spanx, so I wadded up some toilet paper and held it against the edge of the pee-hole just in case. As my bladder did its thang, I tried to adjust my position accordingly. One hip lifted, then the other; shoulders hunched at odd angles; neck craned awkwardly so I could see what was going on down there. Tilting this way and that, trying to aim the stream as best I could without a ... a ... what's that apparatus people use to direct their pee flow? Oh yeah. A PENIS.


I felt kind of like this, except, you know, not graceful or athletic. And on the shitter.

So here I am, hovering over the toilet in some weird contorted position, trying to keep the pee-hole pee-free, when all of a sudden ...

I felt a searing pain in my lower back, like someone was jabbing my spine with a cattle prod.

Yes, you read that right: I INJURED MYSELF TRYING TO PEE THROUGH A HOLE IN MY UNDERGARMENTS.

At that point I didn't care if I shit in my Spanx - I was in pain. So I finished up peeing and wiped without giving a damn and waddled out of the bathroom, still bent over and calling for my husband.

"Currrrtiiiiiiis?" I whimpered.

I couldn't see his expression when he discovered me there, hunched and hobbling, but I can only assume he was marveling at how amazing his wife is and reflecting on his incredible luck.*

*No, you're delusional.

Anyway, once he quit laughing he massaged my back until I was able to straighten up again. And after a few stretches and a fistful of ibuprofen and a whole bunch of whining, I was right as rain. Or at least able to walk normally.

I learned a valuable lesson during my trial run of the Spanx: peeing through the hole can be more trouble than actually de-Spanxing and peeing like a normal person. It might take a couple minutes longer (and you might end up out of breath) but at least you can walk upright when all is said and done. So that's exactly what I did throughout the reception whenever the alcohol - I mean, urine - needed to make an exit.

... Until I took those bitches off and twirled them around my head and wobbled in all my Spanx-less, gussied-up glory to a 7-11 at 2 a.m. and ending up sharing convenience store pizza with a bunch of homeless people across from Boston Common.

But that's a story for another time.

Dear Kids: Stay the Hell Out of the Fridge



Dear Children,

... Or should I say, "dear starving undernourished waifs?" Or perhaps "plague of famished locusts?" Because that's precisely what I think of when I open the refrigerator and it echoes. It's as empty as my wallet - the one I JUST OPENED TO FORK OVER MY LIFE SAVINGS TO THE GROCERY STORE CASHIER.

I know. You're hungry. I know this because you are always hungry. You were hungry five minutes ago, you're hungry right now - probably with your mouth full - and you will be hungry five minutes from now. This is a state you seem to perpetually inhabit, despite the fact that I provide you with three more-than-adequate meals a day. (Which you are ironically "not hungry" enough to eat, yet five minutes after the dishes are cleared you're rummaging for a snack.)

When you're not in the fridge, you're in the cabinets. Or the pantry. Or the freezer. Or trying valiantly to find my hidden stash of emergency chocolate like you don't value your life.

Kids, let me share a little something about the refrigerator, and about modern packaging in general: it is used to preserve food. That means when I purchase something at the grocery store, it does not have to be eaten within a matter of hours in order to avoid spoilage. That's right: IT WILL STILL BE THERE, AND STILL BE EDIBLE, TOMORROW! There's no need to plow through it like a roving band of wild dogs through a meat packing plant. No need to shovel it in like a swarm of stoned sumo wrestlers. I buy enough stuff to last for, like, a week. Maybe two. Maybe three!

I understand that you're growing and that an abundance of food is necessary to sustain your (ridiculous, excessive) energy levels. Maybe try sleeping more? Let's see how that works.

If you'll excuse me, I'm off to donate plasma and then heading to the bank to take out a second mortgage - gotta find a way to fund your insatiable appetites somehow. If I'm late for dinner, there's food in the fridge.

Oh wait. No there isn't. BECAUSE YOU ATE IT ALL.

(Seriously, stahhhhhp.)

Love,
Mom


A Rare Buble-Corn Sighting

I was going to put together a well-thought-out, nicely composed blog post today. Seriously. But then I was browsing Facebook first (because, you know, priorities) and I was like WHOA. BACK THE HELL UP. STOP THE PRESSES. Because I spotted a trending topic that I just had to write about.


OMG YOU GUYS LOOK AT THIS! A rare Bublecorn sighting! It's trending - trending, y'all - so it must be important, right? MICHAEL BUBLE EATING CORN. Imagine that. Celebrities: they're just like us.

Okay, so after I quit laughing (I'm lying: I still can't quit laughing) I delved a little deeper into the Michael-Buble-eating-corn phenomenon and realized that it all stems from a photo taken of him where he appears to be eating an ear of corn from, like, the end.

Image: Reddit

Which as we all know is completely weird, but hey, he's Canadian and maybe they eat it differently there? Or maybe he was just trying to nibble off those little bitty pieces at the end because they're delicious? Or maybe he has literally never eaten corn before and the paparazzi just happened to snap a pic of him awkwardly losing his corn-eating virginity? Or maybe he's just trying to be a trendsetter because NOBODY TELLS MICHAEL BUBLE THE RIGHT WAY TO EAT CORN?! Bottom line, nobody should be judging poor Michael Buble based on the way he chooses to chomp the mother grain.

... But they should definitely keep photoshopping the picture because that shit is hilarious. Check some of them out here.


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