Laden with Thoughts

Let me explain. No, there is no time. Let me sum up. I have given birth to two babies in less than two years. Consequently, my body kind of hates me now… and I pretty much hate my body. Although I’m getting used to it. Before pregnancy I was a size zero (it’s silly that that is a size) and now I’m between a size four and six. That is absolutely fine with me, I am perfectly happy to be that size. However, my big problems with my “new” body include: ragged stretch marks all over my torso and butt, saggy empty belly skin, icky love handles, and national geographic-esque breasts.

(Boys, I understand if you need to stop reading at this point. I probably should have warned you earlier.)

Now, it was fairly easy to deal with these body image issues whenI got to stay home in my sweats all day with the kids, but now that I’ve gone back to work and have to wear actual clothes and be seen by actual people, I have a much harder time facing myself in the mirror each morning. My work trousers show all my little bumps and lumps… my tummy rolls over the top of my pants (muffin-top!) and other bad things happen that I don’t care to speak of on this public blog. Suffice it to say, it makes me sad.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY SOCIAL EXPERIMENT:

The power of girdles.

That’s right… I said girdles.

I worked this week on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. On Monday, I wore a cute sweater and a very nice pair of pinstriped trousers with sexy black pointy-toed patent leather stilletos. On Tuesday, I wore brown trousers with a red silk sweater and tweed flats with jewel embellishment.

BUT. On Thursday, I wore gray pin-striped trousers, a tasteful v-neck rose-colored sweater (read: just a hint of cleavage), and my stilletos again. Underneath these clothes, instead of my normal underwear, I wore a GIRDLE which smoothed out my tummy. (It also caused me to not be able to breathe or eat all day long. But you know… technicalities.)

Please allow me to share with you the results of my experiment.

Monday’s attire: NO GIRDLE.
Monday’s male attraction level: Pretty normal, no big hellos or smiles, just a few pleasant greetings and head-nods.

Tuesday’s attire: NO GIRDLE.
Tuesday’s male attraction level: Hardly anything. A few nods.

Thursday’s attire: GIRDLE!
Thursday’s male attraction level: Male barista at Starbucks looks me up and down. Gets nervous and messes up my coffee. When finished with coffee, says, “Here is your DELICIOUS beverage” while giggling nervously. Male customer holds the door for me as I leave. ALSO. Male boss enters my office to tell me some jokes. Tells me I’m doing a wonderful job at work. Goes into my (female) boss’s office to tell her what a good job I’m doing. ALSO. Some high mucky-mucks from our main office come to tour my office building. I walk down the hallway past them, they literally trip over themselves to introduce themselves to me. Please note: I have met these men several times before, and was never given a second glance.

You know, at first I was laughing and thought the change in attitude was funny. But as the day went on (and believe me, I didn’t list all the examples I could have), I was feeling pretty weirded out. Did I really look that different before without a girdle on?

Ah well. I guess I’m not above a little girdling (yes, I’ve decided that’s a perfectly acceptable term) to do well in life. At least I know I get to go home, remove the girdle (read: release the beast), and put my sweats back on at the end of the day. My poor, poor husband.