I have been on my workout grind lately and I’m quite pleased with the results of my hard work. One day I put on a cute sweater dress and noticed a few lumps and bumps that needed to be smoothed out, so I dug out one of my old girdles, after putting it on I thought I looked damn good everything is smoothed out and sitting pretty I tossed on some boots and made my way to work.
Everything was cool for the first five hours of my day, then things began to take a turn for the worst. After lunch the girdle began to feel a little uncomfortable, the support bone started to roll over and I felt a lump digging a small hole in my back. At this point I’m stuck, I have another three hours left at work and PRIDE wouldn’t let me take it off. My only option at this point is to man up and deal with the discomfort that this devilish device is causing.
After the longest three hours of my life, it’s finally time for me and the gig to go our separate ways. I’m skippin down the steps like a woman who is thirty minutes away from sweet relief until I realized it was a Wednesday, my LOOOONG day. I had a three-hour class waiting for me, I now found myself at a crossroad. To the left I make my way to class and deal with this anaconda like garment that I voluntarily put on at 645am. To the right I am thirty minutes from taking my first deep breath in 3 hours.
I turned left repeating the mantra “no one said it was easy being pretty."
I slide into class fifteen minutes late and immediately go into operation “ignore the pain and focus on the lesson”. Things were going smoothly, I took frequent shallow breaths and sat on the edge of my chair leaning back at a 34-degree angle to keep my airway open. Two hours and forty-five minutes later I glanced at the clock and saw that I was fifteen minutes away from a long awaited freedom. I began to put away my things when the teacher announced that he would need an additional fifteen minutes of my time to finish the review. At this point I’m not sure if I can make it, between the instant flash of anger and the shortage of oxygen I began to feel light headed… but the show must go on.
Class came to a slow end and the very second my professor said goodnight I rolled out as quickly as I could. I’m flying down the highway doing a cool 95 because now I’m faced with a second dilemma. Not only have I been in pain and surviving on 40% of the body’s required oxygen for the past six hours, but now I have to pee and I have to pee BAAAAD. I made it home in a record breaking ten minutes, recklessly parking my car half of it was in the driveway and the other half was on the front yard almost like someone just threw it there. I make it to the front door in a fraction of a second only to see a reflection of head lights against my glass door ---
I closed my eyes while shouting in anger and frustration in my head WHO THE FUCK IS PULLING IN MY DRIVEWAY!!!! I turned around and saw the smoothness of a tall dark and handsome gentleman caller easing out of his car.
Trying not to lose my cool I greet him from the door as I run inside. “Hey babe let yourself in I gotta pee”
I run to the bathroom, pulled my dress up but couldn’t get the girdle off. Tears welled up in my eyes because once again I am faced with a life altering choice. Pee on myself while a sexy man waits for me in the living room or call for help and let this man know that I voluntarily banded myself up all in the name of fashion. The answer was clear I had to call for help, I took a deep breath and I made the call in the most desperate voice this world has ever heard. “BAE!! can you bring me some scissors from the drawer quick I’m bout to pee on myself."
I heard him going through the junk drawer before he said he couldn’t find them, so I tell him to just grab a knife, only for him to respond with “What kind?”
Impatience has taken over; the girdle is about win by a knock out. I can’t hold the pee and my breath much longer the tears ran down my face because this is about to be a browngirl down situation. I am seconds from becoming the pee-pee girl at 34. I replied with the last bit a strength I had left “a sharp one”
That’s it I had nothing left. The fight is over a millisecond before the great release the door opened and my knight in shining armor is there to save me from myself with switchblade in hand. I just point to the girdle and trust him with a sharp object by my lady parts. As the fabric is sliced off of me, I quickly plop down on the toilet and enjoyed two of the best feelings I have ever had in all my 34 years of life. A deep breath and the release of six hours of pee. My hero walked out the bathroom with a confused look on his face. But in my mind I couldn't care less, I will deal with it later because right now I’m gonna enjoy this moment.
After I got myself together, I picked up the pieces of my pride that were left on the bathroom floor and prepared myself for the jokes. But to my surprise I found my hero on the couch watching ESPN eating some leftover spaghetti, he looked up and smiled before he said “you know we go together now right.” we both shared a laugh.
Moral of the story: Girdles are not for the entire day 2-3 hours tops for an event not for the a day in the friggin office
Word of advice: is he still thinks you’re sexy after slicing and dicing a girdle off of you hold onto that man LMAO.
Browngirl vs The Girdle --- we will call it a draw for now