From 12-2…

Yeah, yeah you’ve seen this pic of me on my social media but let me tell you a story about this dress…yes let me tell you.

For those of you living under a rock and don’t know what really important event takes place December 31 every single year…it’s kinda MY BIRTHDAY, well when the clock strikes 12 bringing in the new year, know that little ole me was being born in a snow bank on January 1st, oh…and it’s NYE, not as important but equally celebrated around the world…

This year was filled with extreme weight gain and a dress that should’ve had to wait or weight for another time to be worn so it wouldn’t be tortured by this voluptuous body of mine.

It was some time in November when I was in getting my hair done at Allure Hair Lounge (see how I plugged that) when I was whining to my stylist Mikey (yes another plug so check them out)…anyhoo, I was whining about not having a NYE dress and like any down ass chick would do she sent me a link to a site online that sells nice dresses. Now first of all, not all women are like this because you know you all don’t like to share where you are buying your shit from. So like I was saying, she hooked me the fuck up with the site link, I found a dress I loved and ordered it…now to be sure it would fit I called the 800 number of the business to check to see if the damn dress had any stretch…Yeah you read that right, I wanted to know if I could get bigger and still fit the dress. The truth is I was NOT trying to diet, count calories, log food, stay away from carbs, not drink, not eat 5 slices of cheesecake…listen honestly I was trying to live my best life over the holidays…so yeah I called to see if the dress had stretch. The rep said “oh yes ma’am it sure does” her being a woman and all she completely understood why I was inquiring, it’s chick code thing. So yeah I ordered the dress and waited patiently for it to arrive.

When the dress arrived I’m looking to see how stretchy it is. I yanked on both sides of the dress, it didn’t move, I did it again and well, it didn’t move. The dress was stretchless. Holy fuck I was all stressed out, I knew I had to try it on. Nobody was home so I had to take an independent approach to see if it fit. I kind of got it on but I couldn’t shimmy it up enough to get it in the right place, my nails were too long. So I tried pulling it from the straps and broke one…Yay Me for fuck sakes. I surely couldn’t get it zippered, this part required a helper and I didn’t have one at the time…I’d have to wait for a week until my daughter got home to “really” try it on. It sort of fit but was really snug…who am I trying to kid here, it was kinda too fucking small. It had no stretch the strap was broke and my daughter cut her finger on the sequence when she was trying to zipper it up. Now zippering it up was a whole other situation…I mean I had to suck in until my belly hit my spine then take my boobs and pull them completely out of the top of the dress so the zipper got up. I then tucked them puppies away in the little triangle boob part of the dress…anything with a triangle boob is always fucking small…I mean make a damn triangle to cover the whole boob would ya’s…please! Fortunately the too small triangle boob top part made me look like I had a breast lift so it was a fucking win in my books…I love me some itty bitty triangle tops now. So, yeah, I sorta got the dress on but breathing room was limited, I knew, or at least thought I had to drop some weight if I was going to wear it.

Gathering after gathering there was food, food every fucking where I went…good food too, I mean the kind that makes you say fuck it and you go back for 2nds and 3rds. Fast forward to my last hair appointment before NYE and I am once again whining to my stylist that I’m never going to fit into my dress. With great assurance she said “don’t worry about it you’ll get into it” , so I explained exactly how tight it currently was and she realized I may need some help fitting in my dress. Like any good friend she shared with me yet another fashion tip…off I went to get me a pair of “slimming” underwear or what we ladies call tummy tuckers, hip slimmers, waist trimmers, suck me inners…just something to suck us the fuck in for one night. I hit up the shop she told me to go to, I was overwhelmed man, fuck this section had more options than an ice cream stand…then I saw the tag that read “look 10lbs lighter instantly” and I knew I had found the ultimate weight loss program!

The day had come, I had eaten enough over the holidays that I gained a solid 7lbs…like seriously, 7 whole pounds but I had my
“look 10lbs lighter instantly” underwear so hey, I should be good right? I slept with like 4 heavy blankets the night before thinking I could shed at least 2lbs during the night, I made sure to dream of a skinny body too because sometimes dreams do come true. Neither worked by the way.

Tick tock the time had come to get this dress on…a knock at the door and low and behold it’s Mikey my stylist right on time to help me get into my dress…I mean she wasn’t there for that she came to borrow scissors but fuck was I ever glad to see her. My other friends that were staying in my room were probably somewhat relieved because they didn’t believe that I could get into that dress and honestly I’m not sure they were up for the challenge. First on… the “look 10lbs lighter instantly” underwear…Dayum they really work, then I step into the dress…up to the hips and thighs was smooth sailing, then there was some shimmy, shimmy ko-ko bopping going on, some wiggling and jiggling a bit of hopping up and down, a new dance move was made when I twisted my body into a move similar to that Elaine move from the episode of Seinfeld….the final moves were the belly to spine suck in and removing the boobs from the triangle boob traps. Mikey zipped that dress up, my organs shifted, I lost my breath for 10 seconds and intermediately took short quick breaths and slowly exhaled in hopes that the dress wouldn’t break open at a seam and it held up, it held the fuck up.

I wobbled down the hall believing in my mind I was walking like Jessica Rabbit, I had no room to breathe or giggle or converse because they all required vast intakes of air and I didn’t have any room for air. I attempted to sit on a chair, it was described by one of my friends as “you look like a mermaid sitting on a rock”…well I do like mermaids so was this a bad thing or not? Getting up was not an easy task, it required a friend to take my hand and pull me up, so I only sat down twice that night as it was too exhausting to attempt for both of us, plus people looked puzzled. I spent a large percentage of the night tucking in “the girls”. By the time 1am came rolling around my body couldn’t take it any longer, I wobbled down to my room, took that dress off, (which looked like someone let the air out of a vacuum sealed bag with a blanket in it…poof I expanded) and put on a pair of PJ bottoms and my new tank top that my friend had gotten made for me that said #sherryannecrowe and I went back to the party and danced and breathed and sat down, I really sat down and got up with no help! What a night…and that my people is how you “squeeze a size 12 body into a size 2 dress” as my smart mouthed friend would say. ~ Holla