Friday, June 10

Improper Foundation Garments, or, How I Prevented My Own Heat Stroke

It's hot, y'all.

I vacillate daily between wanting to whine about how hot it is, to wanting to punch the people who whine about how hot it is.
someecards.com - I've been waiting all winter to start complaining about the summer heat
Oh, look, a highly appropriate ecard. 

I don't remember summers being this hot when I was younger. I mean, I also don't remember why on earth I would ever eat bologna and mayo sandwiches when I was younger, but still.
It may be global warming, or it may be the extra __ pounds I've put on in the last 6 years (have I mentioned our 6th anniversary is next week? There is no mystery there. Happy = Chubby), but either way, I'm burning up.
So much so that I am thisclose to eschewing all modesty and/or propriety and am about to start running around in tube tops and hotpants. Like a deranged Hollywood starlet, minus the cocaine and Uggs.

Ok, fine. No, I probably won't go that far. But it's true I can't remember the last time I wore a spaghetti-strapped shirt or dress without a tank or tee underneath. And lets be honest- that is a combination of about 30% true modesty, and 70% I'm uncomfortable baring arms. (My arms, not actual weaponry.)

Last week, however, we hit 90something degrees in central Arkansas, which might as well have been 237°. I pulled out my favorite light-weight tunic dress and decided to forego the bottom layer.

Which is when I realized: I don't own a single strapless bra.
Not one.

I do have two new heavy-duty numbers that I just love. (Lift! Separation!) I also have several ratty comfortable nursing bras that I can't part with, because I am just that nuts. But no strapless ones.

And so, I did this:

(That is neither my actual bra or my actual hand using actual scissors. It's a graphic representation of my dramatic act, found on the grand ol' google.)

Yes. I cut off the straps off one of my bras. Not one of the new ones, one of the ratty previously more useful nursing bras. 


And you know what? It felt good to have the cool car A/C blowing on my bare shoulders again. I was hyper-aware of my heavy artillery (My arms, not my bazoombas) on display for all of Chick-Fil-A to see, but for just a little while, I didn't care. 

Now, I doubt I'll be running around in tube tops and hot pants any time soon. Or strappy sundresses. And yes, maybe I need to actually purchase a proper strapless bra instead of my mutilated home-made version. 


But at least I'm one step closer to self-confidence away from passing out on a fainting couch/punching someone in the face.






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3 comments:

  1. Oh my goodness! You switched to Disqus. Now I can leave you comments again without secretly hating it. :-)

    I'm not sure which I hate more... summer or my arms. So, until I figure it out, I am refusing to leave the air conditioning.

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  2. I am so amazed at your creativity and quirkiness. No wait,; that is so YOU!

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  3. I hear ya on the baring arms thing. It's a fine line for me in the summer, because I wrestle with the cleavage insecurity AND the arm insecurity. But I've worn a strapless dress! To work! WHAT. Yep, THAT HOT.

    Also I ate bologna and mayo sandwiches as a kid, too.

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