Trauma in Shapewear

This is serious business, ladies, so pay attention. It also is a bit personal but I figured someone has to talk about it so it might as well be me.  I had, what can only be described as, an extremely traumatic experience the other day. I share it here in the hopes of saving someone else though I am wondering if it was just me or if anyone else has suffered through a similar fiasco.

I was shopping in Kohl's because, as you might guess, I had a coupon. I had wandered around fairly successfully and decided to end in "Intimates". Anybody that knows me well knows that I love P.J.'s. I'd live in them if I could so I am always checking out the sale racks for some new "after work wear". As I was heading for the pajamas, I noticed a display marked  "Shapewear". Hmmm...I've been having issues of late with the dreaded back fat. If I didn't have to wear a bra I'd have a much smoother shape in the back but inevitably, a saggier one in the front. Since going to work or church braless isn't an option for me (any more ☺), I thought I might benefit from a trip through the Shapewear department. I saw some camisoles and the brand name was Flexees. Doesn't that sound easy to wear? I grabbed a couple and headed for the dressing room. If you are interested in seeing just how innocent these creations of the devil look, here it is...



I took my shirt off and began to casually slip the cami over my head. By the way, I won't tell you what size I was trying on but suffice it to say, it was not a Small or a Medium. Now, the fact that I began having trouble moving this item down past my chin should have been a red flag. However, I ignored the warning and gallantly soldiered on. I mean, I am nothing if not persistent. O.K. Got it down to my upper chest and attempted to get an arm through. Again, major red flag! Again, I continued. I finally had both arms through and now, the tricky little item was rolled into a narrow little tube and was threatening to cut off all circulation to the "girls". Eventually, I managed to get it untangled and pulled down over my stomach. I began to suffocate. I could not take a full breath so I had to resort to short, shallow breaths reminiscent of the Lamaze breathing I was taught years ago for childbirth. That sort of breathing was ineffective while I was in labor and it was just as ineffective for surviving encapsulation by "power mesh". I realized that I needed to get this thing off me and reconsider this whole mission.

Easier said than done. I attempted to pull the cami up and managed to get it to just under the boobs, again in a tight little roll. I felt faint stirrings of panic but had no choice but to move forward. With a tremendous amount of tugging, I got it to about the middle of my boobs. I was so thankful that there were no hidden cameras in that dressing room. However, no matter what I tried, I could not get it to move any further. Finally, in desperation, I took my left arm and shoved it down through the roll that was the cami. I got it pushed down to about my elbow. I may not have thought this through very well. My left hand was now positioned over my right hip and my elbow was cocked at a weird angle, almost as if I was trying to take something out of a pocket on my right side with my left hand. I quickly ascertained that my arm was pinned. As in stuck. Tight. I was now feeling more than just stirrings of panic. I twisted and turned and twitched and thrust but all to no avail. Oh my gosh! I was going to have to pull the fire alarm lever and have a paramedic cut me out of the dang thing! Could I possibly be any more humiliated? I made one, last, dramatic upward arm motion and miraculously, I was free!! I gasped for air and praised God that I was no longer in the clutches of the "feminine, flattering" camisole. I think it was alive but it played dead sort of like an opossum. It is still there, in the Kohl's Intimate Department, waiting for it's next victim.

I, meanwhile, have decided to ignore the back fat issue for now.