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How Not to Dress for a Wedding Three Weeks Postpartum
Posted By Smockity Frocks On June 18, 2009 @ 8:26 pm In Family,Really Funny Stuff | 42 Comments
My sister in law got married on New Year’s Eve, three weeks after our seventh baby was born.
If that sentence right there doesn’t strike fear into your heart, then you will not understand the rest of this post and you are probably one of those people, and by people I mean aliens, who gains 18 pounds your entire pregnancy and complain about those pesky five pounds that are still hanging on at the six week postpartum check up.
Let’s just say, I am not one of those. I gain between 40 and 50 pounds each pregnancy and for someone who is 5’1″ that is not a pretty profile. I look something like a potato with feet.
Needless to say, it takes pert near a full year to shed all that weight, and going to a country club wedding three weeks after delivering a baby was going to present some wardrobe challenges, to say the least.
I was nursing a newborn for one thing, so I needed to consider that. I didn’t think any of my stunning denim maternity wear would be appropriate so I figured I would need to buy something new for the occasion, but I hated to spend good money on an outfit that would hopefully be too big in no time at all.
That’s when I had the genius idea to buy something that would be a touch on the snug side and wear it with the proper *foundation garment. That way, I would be able to wear the outfit as I slowly lost my baby weight. *(My mom used to call this a girdle, but “foundation garment” makes it sound so much more upscale, doesn’t it? I think I shall purpose to use the word “garment” as much as possible this week.)
So I buy the smallest size skirt and top I think I can squeeze into and a teeny tiny rubber lined torture chamber foundation garment that looked like it might fit a six year old. I believe it was made of industrial strength rubber bands and bamboo.
In another stroke of genius, I never tried on said outfit until the weekend of the wedding.
Word to the wise: Never wait until the day of an event to try on an outfit!
That undergarment was lined with rubbery strips which were meant to keep it in place. The thing is those strips made getting it in place a lengthy and arduous process.
It didn’t help matters that during the half hour I was holed up in the bathroom trying to get that sucker on, my two year old wandered in and went from mesmerized to terrified with all the jumping and heaving and contorting I was going through that would have rivaled any Chinese acrobat.
By the time I got it on, I was sweating bullets and still wasn’t completely dressed. The rest of the family was already waiting to get in the car, so I took a shallow breath, which was all the undergarment would allow and forged ahead with the skirt.
Have you ever tried to put on a skirt without bending from the waist? Very difficult. I don’t recommend it at all if it can be avoided. That undergarment was so tight that I absolutely was incapable of bending over, so I finally decided to put the skirt on over my head. I hurriedly threw on the top and fanned myself, hoping the sweating would cease and desist, pronto!
When I got to the car everyone was waiting and I climbed in stiffly. I could see that sitting was going to be a challenge, so I went with the lounging posture. My husband looked at me skeptically and asked if I was okay. “Yes-sure-great-everything’sfine.” I said, wide eyed and smiling a leeetle too widely.
During the wedding ceremony, I managed to actually sit fully erect, but it was the most miserable hour and a half I have ever spent, not counting those hours with my legs in the air with various strangers yelling “PUUUUSH!!!”
I was certain my ribs were perilously close to puncturing my left lung.
Oh! How I could not wait to get home and rip off those clothes so I could throw on my trusty old maternity standbys.
Little did I know I was not through paying for my vanity. That undergarment was not giving up its hold on me without a fight. Remember the rubbery strips? That thing took on a life of its own and veritably clung to me like a parasite clings to its host.
For a moment I panicked and wondered what I would do if I couldn’t get the thing off. Would I have to call for assistance and a sharp pair of scissors? Oh no! Not if I could help it! I refused to let the undergarment get the best of me and with one mighty tug and some Lamaze breathing techniques, I finally loosed that stubborn garment from my person and breathlessly vowed to never again let my vanity bring me so close to utter embarrassment and a team undressing event.
And that is the end of this tragic and dangerous “buy it too small and hope you can squeeze into it” story.
Don’t let this happen to you, friends. Dress safely.
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