I took a 6 month break from dating after I broke up with Awful.
Emotionally, I simply wasn't ready and he had already won the race in who was going to get laid first. He had sex with someone 1 week after we officially broke up (it was crushing at the time, especially because an old neighbor acquaintance was the one who broke the news to me......OY...he also most likely cheated on me, but that is another story for another day). This fact in itself made me extra motivated to not do as he did and just find a warm body (though I did one time last April post breakup and it was not all that it should have been......) to validate myself with. I started my dating search seeking a boyfriend and yearning for a real connection. Sadly, I never found one in my city.......BUT, I did find Crush, so I did do something very very right eventually!
Last spring, it was time to get back in the dating game. Yes, I was still post breakup fluffy (chubby). Yes, I was still feeling really fragile (like an egg). Yes, I was still living with my parents at 30 (still am, WHOOOOT!)........but, I needed to at least try to connect with someone.
I had a little free time as everyone I knew was about to have a baby or just had a baby, so besides complaining, crying, or eating.....there was no excuse to not date. Up went the OK Cupid dating profile and the selection process began.
As I posted a few days ago, I was VERY specific about what I was looking for. For me, I wanted someone who wanted to get married, had a job, and was the same religion as me (Jewish) if possible. The religion thing was really my first priority at the time as Awful wasn't the same religion and for us (I can only talk from my personal experience with this here and for us the religious differences became a disaster, but most of it was because Awful is a sayer not a doer by nature), it caused MANY problems. It wasn't a ton of hard qualifications, but I was specific, I only received 2 emails from suitors. I went out with both. One wasn't bad, just no connection, so he doesn't get a post.....but #2....OH MY..........
#2 emailed me asking if I wanted to get coffee sometime and I agreed. He seemed nice and articulate and had a lovely smile and eyes. He had a job and took the time to fill out his profile. I did see one red flag though, but I chose to ignore it as I was desperate for a date and male approval. The red flag was that he described himself as sarcastic. Now, I am TOTALLY sarcastic and I own it, but I don't advertise it as I feel the word sarcastic is very much like the word beautiful....it is really in the eye of the beholder. In the city I live in, sarcastic when pertaining to a man often means one thing and one thing only....ASSHOLE. But, I was still single at the time, so what did I know? This man could have been the sweetest sarcastic gem on the planet, so why be so close-minded...?
Mr. Sarcastic and I planned to meet at a local tea shop at 1:00 pm. At 1:35 pm he arrived in sweat pants, sneakers, an old college sweatshirt, with sleep (eye boogers) still crusted on his eyelids. He smelled like smoke, whiskey, bad breath, and fried food. I was still giving him the benefit of the doubt at this point. I just wanted some company. I asked him if he had a fun night out to which he replied:
"Yes, I had sex with a hooker."
To this day, I am still not sure whether to believe him or not.
He went ahead and ordered himself a beverage and did not offer me one. I then got myself one. He said that he will pay for things on a date only after he has slept with his company and at that point he would spend a varied amount of money based on how good the sex was....
WHY DIDN'T I LEAVE THEN?
So, to make things even more awkward, the tea shop he chose was less than 2 blocks away from where Awful lived (in a rather popular and upscale part of the city I live in), so I was in constant fear that he was going to walk in on this horrendous situation, so I was acting like a robot and not focusing on the true direness of the situation.
After Mister Sarcastic slurped his chai latte and spilled on himself, he asked me to join him for some ice cream around the corner. I went as I looked at the time and we were still at less than 10 minutes total for the date.
He got himself a giant waffle cone of rainbow sherbet and of course didn't offer me anything and while he ate like a wild pig, he spoke about himself for 10 minutes straight like this:
"I am the best catch ever. I am rich. I am tall. I am handsome. I am educated. I am well endowed. I have women begging for me. I had to dump my ex because she loved me too much. I was too funny for her. I was too alive. I am larger than life. I am a rare gift. I am more than anyone would ever want or need. I am funny. I am stable. I am gifted....blah blah blah blah blah....."
Upon the 11th minute of this rant, a 16 year old girl with braces, a small dog, wearing teeny jean shorts and a cut off sweat shirt top comes and sits down at our table and calls my date "Dad."
To this day, I am still not sure if this was his daughter or girlfriend....a part of me thinks that she joins him "on dates" as a cover.
He then says to the teen....
"I AM NOT YOUR FATHER!!!!!! and they both laugh and hug and she begins licking his ice cream cone (the one he bought, not the one in his pants).
We have been on our date for 25 minutes. He hasn't asked me 1 question and I am so utterly confused.......we are now all of a sudden babysitting a teen......I am fascinated too, just waiting to be "Punked". I just can't get up and leave quite yet, I just can't, even though I really want to. It is like a car accident. I have daters gape.
He then begins telling me about his sarcasm:
"I am sarcastic. It suits me well. I could be a comedian (as someone who once dabbled in comedy, NO YOU COULDN'T) and people always tell me that I should have been, if I wasn't a lawyer. I just don't have the time to be the next Seinfeld even though I am funnier, better, and almost as rich as him. I just want you to know, that if I decide to sleep with you, you will need to be able to handle my sarcasm. It is essential for the function of our relationship. What are your thoughts on this?"
The was the first time in the last 30 minutes that I had been offered a chance to speak, so I did:
"Well, since you asked....I think you are a horrible date and disgusting. I would never sleep with you. You smell, you are wearing ill-fitting sweatpants, you are cheap, rude, disrespectful to women, and completely in denial of who you really are as a person. You have this weird ego which results in the fact that you have no penis in you pjs. You are likely a pedophile and are trying to have a date with a junior in high school at the same time as me. You are single because you are crazy. This is very clear to me. The only issue I am currently having with this date is the fact that I am still on it. I wasted 32 minutes of my life with you and I can never get that back. Bye. Also, sarcastic is not what you are, you are an asshole. Also, you are so unfunny, it hurts. If this is some improv skit, then I appreciate it, but I don't think it is. The only way to make this moderately okay would be for a camera and crew to pop out. I am going to now wait for the camera and crew as I can take a joke. (I waited about a minute, no camera, no crew). Okay, you are not an actor, you are just insane. Bye now for real."
And then I got up and left.
I heard a yell from behind me....
"SO YOU DON'T WANT TO MAKE OUT?????? You are actually hot! Lose 20 pounds and call me!"
I promptly burst into tears and ran to my car.
Showing posts with label Attempt at Humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Attempt at Humor. Show all posts
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
My Online Dating Post Got Me Thinking....Time for a Mortifying Date Story
I may be all smug and in love, but it took me MANY dates to get here. EMBARRASSMENT, INSULTS, HEARTBREAK, and SHAME were the theme of my dating life in my 20's. It was so bad, yet it was also absolutely hilarious in hindsight. I am going to begin to share some of these horror stories starting with a real gem (one of my bffs refers to this instance all too often) when I went out with a carpet salesman on a date in college.......
Once upon a time, I loved my booze. I loved it strong, straight, and in large quantities. This time was not limited to college unfortunately, but some of my best stories did occur between the years of '99-'04 (that's right, I LOVED college so much, it took me 5 years)....
The booze made me do silly things.....dye my hair blond, go out in jean mini-skirts without underwear, make out with people I hated sober, and eat only asparagus and broccoli and Diet Dr. Pepper. It also made me think that accepting a date with Persian rug salesman 17 years my senior was a normal and fully reasonable idea.
I remember going out one night with my blond hair and no panties and meeting a man. It happened a lot and often when I woke up, all I could recall was that the person I met was alive. When this particular man called me the next day to take me to dinner, I was really excited. I lived in this fantasy land where I thought that acting like a bloated, crazy, drunk, messy buffoon would help me land a soul mate. I believed that tequila and vodka made me a better person, not a human hurricane, so I drank insane amounts of it and walked around town in a drunk haze and imagined myself some music video vixen....OY.
I was VERY disappointed when my future husband to be showed up to pick me up for the big date, mind you, the very next day after meeting him (I didn't know ANYTHING about not accepting a date on such late notice, I hadn't read The Rules yet). In less than 24 hours since I met him, he became everything I wasn't looking for: unattractive, super thin, smelly, pimply, missing teeth, he drove a car that had plastic wrap windows, he didn't speak English well, and he only wanted one thing and one thing only....MY vagina. This was bad, very very bad.
I made him take me to an expensive restaurant because obviously being the fine lady I was, I deserved to be treated wonderfully, like a princess. I knew there was only one way for us to bond, for us to find that magic that we shared the night before, for us to be able to stand each other's presence and that was for me to get very VERY drunk.....and I did.
Several martinis later, he looked just like I remembered, blurry. Like a Picasso. He was no longer a carpet salesman, but a man with major potential who specialized in interior concept and design. The vodka was pulsating through my core and begging for this man to love and adore me, so I did what I did best (and why I most likely always seemed to attract men with limited understanding of the English language because they were the only ones that could tolerate me....), I bragged about myself.
I started with my beautiful "natural" blond hair and continued to my straight teeth (I had braces for 4 years). Moving downwards, I bragged about how I didn't need a bra because my breasts defied gravity (they were quite small at this time, so a bra wasn't super necessary) and how my (recently thinner, but still rolly) tummy was a perfect shade of bronze from maximum tanning bed and sun exposure. When I felt he was hanging on my every word (most likely trying to piece together my sentiments because of his limited grasp of English and my excessive slurring), I moved in for the absolute kill......
My legs.
Now, I will say, everyone has a good feature and mine are my calves. Yes, they are attached to rather chunky and cellulite induced thighs, but they shapely and firm and were even better when I was 20 as I was tan, with less mass, and tons of muscle saved up from playing sports since I was a teeny girl. They were something to be proud of for me, especially for how little effort I was putting them through at that time in my life (perhaps stumbling is a better workout than you would think....)....I literally had a 15 minute rave session about my own two limbs and then ate my supper, sobered up a bit and begged to be taken home as I was feeling like I had to vomit (regular occurrence in college, not puking up food, puking up booze).......and he was looking less like abstract art and more like the carpet salesman that picked me up 2 hours earlier.
When I got home, to my HORROR, I learned my roommate and a very best friend to this day heard all about my legs...........HOW? Was she dining at the restaurant? Spying on me through the window? Working in the kitchen?
NOOOOOOOOOOO.....
I had pursed dialed her from my date in my drunken stupor and she listened in on the hysteria in detail. She caught the ENTIRE leg conversation......
I couldn't look at myself for days, I was so embarrassed.
To this day, she will not let me forget it. In the past whenever I would go out on a first date (even my first date with Crush) she would always ask...."did you tell him about your legs?"
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I almost peed in my Spanx, the first time I dressed up to attend a party with Crush and while I was getting into the car with my heels on, he said, "wow, you have great legs, has anyone ever told you that before?".....I smiled and said, "well, I used to tell myself that all the time...." and then giggled for 5 minutes straight before I told him the above story.
More shameful dates to come!
Once upon a time, I loved my booze. I loved it strong, straight, and in large quantities. This time was not limited to college unfortunately, but some of my best stories did occur between the years of '99-'04 (that's right, I LOVED college so much, it took me 5 years)....
The booze made me do silly things.....dye my hair blond, go out in jean mini-skirts without underwear, make out with people I hated sober, and eat only asparagus and broccoli and Diet Dr. Pepper. It also made me think that accepting a date with Persian rug salesman 17 years my senior was a normal and fully reasonable idea.
I remember going out one night with my blond hair and no panties and meeting a man. It happened a lot and often when I woke up, all I could recall was that the person I met was alive. When this particular man called me the next day to take me to dinner, I was really excited. I lived in this fantasy land where I thought that acting like a bloated, crazy, drunk, messy buffoon would help me land a soul mate. I believed that tequila and vodka made me a better person, not a human hurricane, so I drank insane amounts of it and walked around town in a drunk haze and imagined myself some music video vixen....OY.
I was VERY disappointed when my future husband to be showed up to pick me up for the big date, mind you, the very next day after meeting him (I didn't know ANYTHING about not accepting a date on such late notice, I hadn't read The Rules yet). In less than 24 hours since I met him, he became everything I wasn't looking for: unattractive, super thin, smelly, pimply, missing teeth, he drove a car that had plastic wrap windows, he didn't speak English well, and he only wanted one thing and one thing only....MY vagina. This was bad, very very bad.
I made him take me to an expensive restaurant because obviously being the fine lady I was, I deserved to be treated wonderfully, like a princess. I knew there was only one way for us to bond, for us to find that magic that we shared the night before, for us to be able to stand each other's presence and that was for me to get very VERY drunk.....and I did.
Several martinis later, he looked just like I remembered, blurry. Like a Picasso. He was no longer a carpet salesman, but a man with major potential who specialized in interior concept and design. The vodka was pulsating through my core and begging for this man to love and adore me, so I did what I did best (and why I most likely always seemed to attract men with limited understanding of the English language because they were the only ones that could tolerate me....), I bragged about myself.
I started with my beautiful "natural" blond hair and continued to my straight teeth (I had braces for 4 years). Moving downwards, I bragged about how I didn't need a bra because my breasts defied gravity (they were quite small at this time, so a bra wasn't super necessary) and how my (recently thinner, but still rolly) tummy was a perfect shade of bronze from maximum tanning bed and sun exposure. When I felt he was hanging on my every word (most likely trying to piece together my sentiments because of his limited grasp of English and my excessive slurring), I moved in for the absolute kill......
My legs.
Now, I will say, everyone has a good feature and mine are my calves. Yes, they are attached to rather chunky and cellulite induced thighs, but they shapely and firm and were even better when I was 20 as I was tan, with less mass, and tons of muscle saved up from playing sports since I was a teeny girl. They were something to be proud of for me, especially for how little effort I was putting them through at that time in my life (perhaps stumbling is a better workout than you would think....)....I literally had a 15 minute rave session about my own two limbs and then ate my supper, sobered up a bit and begged to be taken home as I was feeling like I had to vomit (regular occurrence in college, not puking up food, puking up booze).......and he was looking less like abstract art and more like the carpet salesman that picked me up 2 hours earlier.
When I got home, to my HORROR, I learned my roommate and a very best friend to this day heard all about my legs...........HOW? Was she dining at the restaurant? Spying on me through the window? Working in the kitchen?
NOOOOOOOOOOO.....
I had pursed dialed her from my date in my drunken stupor and she listened in on the hysteria in detail. She caught the ENTIRE leg conversation......
I couldn't look at myself for days, I was so embarrassed.
To this day, she will not let me forget it. In the past whenever I would go out on a first date (even my first date with Crush) she would always ask...."did you tell him about your legs?"
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I almost peed in my Spanx, the first time I dressed up to attend a party with Crush and while I was getting into the car with my heels on, he said, "wow, you have great legs, has anyone ever told you that before?".....I smiled and said, "well, I used to tell myself that all the time...." and then giggled for 5 minutes straight before I told him the above story.
More shameful dates to come!
Monday, January 14, 2013
10 Things I Still Won't Be Able to Do/Wear When I Reach My Goal Weight
I have been thinking a lot these last few weeks. I have been focusing on how I make things SO hard for myself, for no good reason. My life COULD be so much easier, if I would just change a few subtle things. The same thing can be said about making money. Little tweaks could garner HUGE results. I have made a promise to myself to live for ME first. This is a HUGE step for me. Up until the age of 30 (last year), I lived for EVERYONE, but ME and then I wondered why I was sad, unfulfilled, depressed, and lost. I am not afraid to be me anymore. Everything is so much clearer these days. I am far from perfect, but I am not crazy. This concept in itself makes me feel WAY better. I can indeed trust my instincts, my inner-voice, and my heart. RELIEF.
Lately, I have been daydreaming about how much I want to wear a certain dress that I love when I get back to my fighting weight and then this innovative thought crossed my mind......if I don't get to that weight, I can always buy another dress I also love, just one size bigger. I am so smart, I may be due for a Nobel Prize.....There is always a solution. Goals are great, but they will only work for me, if I care enough to achieve them. I think I do care enough about the weight, but I am not totally convinced. Being honest and accountable is the only way to find out and that has been what I am doing. I have also been working out daily, because I LOVE to workout, not for vanity and guess what, the scale is going back down.......I may be Einstein, for real, I am sharp I tell you.
Here is a list of 10 things I know I will never ever be able to accomplish with my weight loss that I am perfectly fine with:
1. I will never be able to use a gym towel as coverage when I shower after exercise class. I always gaze in sheer wonder at the ladies at my gym who cover their breasts, vaginas, and tushes with a gym provided towel...they are the size of a postage stamp! Me....well, I need 2 towels, one for my top and one for my bottom and there is still A LOT of lady hanging out. I bring my own robe to conceal my humps (Fergie Ferg). Even if I lost 600 pounds, I know a gym towel still wouldn't cover these birthing hips.
2. I will never wear a single digit size. I am THIN at a size 10.....this is TINY for me. Currently I am a 12/14. Losing 25 pounds (what I have left) will get me to a perfect 10 and I am fine with that. I always laugh when people seem appalled at the notion of a size 12. I look awesome when I am a size 12! I am proud of my statuesque figure, very few woman are built like me these days (the reason why it seems that every man over age 75 seems to have a major crush on me) and that makes me happy, not sad. BOO to conformity!
3. I will never wear a string bikini. Even post tummy tuck, I have stretch marks (and now a scar) on my stomach. I need a higher waisted bikini bottom. Don't cry for me, I am fine.
4. I will never wear short shorts. First of all, I am becoming very conservative and find them totally inappropriate on a woman of a certain age unless you look like Jessica Simpson in her Daisy Duke phase, but more than that, I also have cellulite on the back of my thighs and I don't like to advertise it in public....it's genetic, so even though I have greatly reduced it by drinking lots of water (gag, I make myself) and working out (I turn the resistance knob ALL the way up on my spin bike), the cheese on my legs (what my darling ex-boyfriend Awful (F*CK FACE) called my lumpy thighs) is here to stay. (BONUS FACT: both my bro-in-law and Crush have no idea what cellulite is, so my sister and I, who both have it (sorry, sissy!), have not informed them of our gift....smart ladies never tell men too much information and men that know too much information or rarely gentlemen). I also don't like the look that those short shorts give even the most shapely ladies....that look is known as camel toe (or a front wedgie for you who don't have to worry much about it like I do.....wide hisp will do that to you!).
5. I will never be able to wear a backless dress. I am one of those lucky ladies that has some back fat, even when I am thin. My body is just designed this way. I do love the look of a backless gown, but it isn't in the cards for me.
6. I will never be able to wear white pants. This isn't a weight thing, I am just a slob and dirt always finds me and I get really into eating my food with gusto and I spill on myself.
7. I will never be able to wear jeans without stretch. I need that stretch for important reasons, like to be able to button them.
8. I will never be able to rock the look I have always wanted to rock since I was 14.....classic button down Levis jeans (NO STRETCH) with a man's v-neck white Hanes t-shirt. Think Jennifer Aniston (you will get the idea, I think she looked better with a little meat though, but I don't like the look of SUPER thin) circa the second year of Friends, before she got too skinny, but still had the Rachel haircut. I just have too many curves for this look to ever be flattering. Things that flatter my hip to waist ratio is the only way I can dress and NOT get mistaken for being pregnant, even post-tummy tuck....(BONUS TIP: NEVER EVER UNDER ANY CONDITION ask a mildly overweight lady when she is due unless you see a baby coming out of her vagina......THANK YOU! The mental anguish I have had to overcome for being asked about my potential buns in the oven almost ended me until I became Kathy Bates character from Fried Green Tomatoes, the movie).
9. I will never be able to wear a strapless dress. I have very broad shoulders and strapless dresses make me look like a linebacker. I know everyone thinks they are universally flattering, well, not on me. One day, my wedding dress won't be strapless, I can assure you of this. The only exception to this rule is a strapless sweetheart neckline which can sometimes kinda work if the dress in question has a very nipped waist and a full skirt.
10. I will never be able to wear a sports bra as a top when I work out. Not like I would really want to anyway because I am not TLC or Gwen Stefani from the No Doubt period, but I won't be able to, anyway. I will always have some jiggle and that jiggle looks better with a top on. Also, in order for me to create a waist in my exercise pants (the necessary accessory, a waist, for me to sport my tummy .....think high waisted bikini), I would give myself a camel toe....I would rather have a covered up muffin top than an exposed camel toe.
BUT, one thing I CAN wear when I lose the weight? The very dress I mentioned at the beginning of this post...full circle.
Lately, I have been daydreaming about how much I want to wear a certain dress that I love when I get back to my fighting weight and then this innovative thought crossed my mind......if I don't get to that weight, I can always buy another dress I also love, just one size bigger. I am so smart, I may be due for a Nobel Prize.....There is always a solution. Goals are great, but they will only work for me, if I care enough to achieve them. I think I do care enough about the weight, but I am not totally convinced. Being honest and accountable is the only way to find out and that has been what I am doing. I have also been working out daily, because I LOVE to workout, not for vanity and guess what, the scale is going back down.......I may be Einstein, for real, I am sharp I tell you.
Here is a list of 10 things I know I will never ever be able to accomplish with my weight loss that I am perfectly fine with:
1. I will never be able to use a gym towel as coverage when I shower after exercise class. I always gaze in sheer wonder at the ladies at my gym who cover their breasts, vaginas, and tushes with a gym provided towel...they are the size of a postage stamp! Me....well, I need 2 towels, one for my top and one for my bottom and there is still A LOT of lady hanging out. I bring my own robe to conceal my humps (Fergie Ferg). Even if I lost 600 pounds, I know a gym towel still wouldn't cover these birthing hips.
2. I will never wear a single digit size. I am THIN at a size 10.....this is TINY for me. Currently I am a 12/14. Losing 25 pounds (what I have left) will get me to a perfect 10 and I am fine with that. I always laugh when people seem appalled at the notion of a size 12. I look awesome when I am a size 12! I am proud of my statuesque figure, very few woman are built like me these days (the reason why it seems that every man over age 75 seems to have a major crush on me) and that makes me happy, not sad. BOO to conformity!
3. I will never wear a string bikini. Even post tummy tuck, I have stretch marks (and now a scar) on my stomach. I need a higher waisted bikini bottom. Don't cry for me, I am fine.
4. I will never wear short shorts. First of all, I am becoming very conservative and find them totally inappropriate on a woman of a certain age unless you look like Jessica Simpson in her Daisy Duke phase, but more than that, I also have cellulite on the back of my thighs and I don't like to advertise it in public....it's genetic, so even though I have greatly reduced it by drinking lots of water (gag, I make myself) and working out (I turn the resistance knob ALL the way up on my spin bike), the cheese on my legs (what my darling ex-boyfriend Awful (F*CK FACE) called my lumpy thighs) is here to stay. (BONUS FACT: both my bro-in-law and Crush have no idea what cellulite is, so my sister and I, who both have it (sorry, sissy!), have not informed them of our gift....smart ladies never tell men too much information and men that know too much information or rarely gentlemen). I also don't like the look that those short shorts give even the most shapely ladies....that look is known as camel toe (or a front wedgie for you who don't have to worry much about it like I do.....wide hisp will do that to you!).
5. I will never be able to wear a backless dress. I am one of those lucky ladies that has some back fat, even when I am thin. My body is just designed this way. I do love the look of a backless gown, but it isn't in the cards for me.
6. I will never be able to wear white pants. This isn't a weight thing, I am just a slob and dirt always finds me and I get really into eating my food with gusto and I spill on myself.
7. I will never be able to wear jeans without stretch. I need that stretch for important reasons, like to be able to button them.
8. I will never be able to rock the look I have always wanted to rock since I was 14.....classic button down Levis jeans (NO STRETCH) with a man's v-neck white Hanes t-shirt. Think Jennifer Aniston (you will get the idea, I think she looked better with a little meat though, but I don't like the look of SUPER thin) circa the second year of Friends, before she got too skinny, but still had the Rachel haircut. I just have too many curves for this look to ever be flattering. Things that flatter my hip to waist ratio is the only way I can dress and NOT get mistaken for being pregnant, even post-tummy tuck....(BONUS TIP: NEVER EVER UNDER ANY CONDITION ask a mildly overweight lady when she is due unless you see a baby coming out of her vagina......THANK YOU! The mental anguish I have had to overcome for being asked about my potential buns in the oven almost ended me until I became Kathy Bates character from Fried Green Tomatoes, the movie).
9. I will never be able to wear a strapless dress. I have very broad shoulders and strapless dresses make me look like a linebacker. I know everyone thinks they are universally flattering, well, not on me. One day, my wedding dress won't be strapless, I can assure you of this. The only exception to this rule is a strapless sweetheart neckline which can sometimes kinda work if the dress in question has a very nipped waist and a full skirt.
10. I will never be able to wear a sports bra as a top when I work out. Not like I would really want to anyway because I am not TLC or Gwen Stefani from the No Doubt period, but I won't be able to, anyway. I will always have some jiggle and that jiggle looks better with a top on. Also, in order for me to create a waist in my exercise pants (the necessary accessory, a waist, for me to sport my tummy .....think high waisted bikini), I would give myself a camel toe....I would rather have a covered up muffin top than an exposed camel toe.
BUT, one thing I CAN wear when I lose the weight? The very dress I mentioned at the beginning of this post...full circle.
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