Yesterday I went shopping [shock and horror]. I'm on a very strick budget so I shopping isn't something I do very often. (Can you call it a budget when it means you have no money after you pay your bills?)
My closet has become the final resting place for items with holes, rips, alterations-gone-wrongs, and doesn't-quite-fit-rights. Most of my clothes can be placed in one of three categories: will pass for work, will pass for workout and will pass only in the comfort of my own home on "fat days".
I'll be the first to admit, I hate shopping. Much like looking for a suitable man to date, I find there's not enough choice in the area I live, and I know what I want but none of the stores are selling it. Ironically, I have a picnic date on Tuesday evening and was looking for something that says "I'm the most delicious thing on this blanket".
I tore through three shops in under 30 minutes, trying on at least 30 items. The clothes were flying, the swear words were flying. It was not one of my finer moments. Some things fit, some things didn't. But mostly they didn't. A size "small" fit great around my waist but was snug on my biceps (thanks to my Billy band workouts) and smooshed my boobs for that "bodice on a bar wench" look. And don't even get me started on my ghetto booty a$$ that just won't quit.
So, I decided to switch gears and hunt down a bathing suit for next weekend's Canada Day bash (if there's ever a time to flaunt your jugs, it's in a swim suit). Mistake! I tried on 6 bikini's and a one-piece [shudder]. Let's just say, the only place a girl wants to see saddle bags, is on a horse.
I left the mall feeling like crap.
By the time I arrived at the hair salon, I was drained. I asked my hair dresser for something different, something "polished". And for the first time that day, I got exactly what I wanted.
If nothing else, I'll have amazing hair on my date. On second thought, bar wench boobs might not be so bad...
Oy, my tummy. It hurts right now. Come to think of it, I'm feeling slightly nauseous too. And that heartburn...where did THAT come from?
Oh yeah! From all the side splitting laughter I had at the movies watching "Knocked Up", not to mention the bag o' screaming sour candy I downed. What did you think I meant? Sheesh.
If you haven't seen this movie, run for a [expletive] cinematic experience. (Don't walk...unless ofcourse you are knocked up in which case you should tread carefully or maybe even skip the movie altogether unless you're asking for a quick slap of reality).
It's crude, it's rude, but best of all it's real.
What shocked me the most (more than the "crowning" shot or the sight of Seth Rogan's hairy ass) was how many old people were there in the theatre. This frail looking 78 year old was two feet away from me. I thought she would be offended. But she was fine (right after she took her medication anyway).
I can't say anymore - I don't want to give anything away. It restored something in me I had lost. A belief. That Paul Rudd can act. Sort of.
Note: Knocked Up (the movie) is not really appropriate for a first date (more like a second date...the movie...not actually getting knocked up).
Also Note: The Redhead-Next-Door does not advocate/promote/condone pre-marital/post-martial protected/unprotected sex especially when it results in the procreation and passing-on-of the "hairy ass" gene.
Once in a while, you just have to stop and ask yourself, "What the fuck?" Because there are some things in this world that just don't add up [Like the continuing popularity of Ron Jeremy].
Or, like this binding is-it-a-diaper or-is-it-a-straight-jacket contraption (see right). No doubt, it was designed by a man because there's no way a sista would do this to another sista.
This tighty whitey body cast inspired undergarment is one of many similar lingerie warfare pieces pictured in North American department store catalogues.
Sheesh, remember when the bra and pantey section of the catalogue served to inspire moments of self-lovin' ? Ah, the good old days.
Since when are women expected to eradicate all traces of their curves in exchange for smooth silhouette lines you could bounce a quarter off? There is so much pressure on women to conform. Remember pre-Ben Afflect Jennifer Lopez? You don't? Um ok. How about ahhhhhh.....well, it's happening ok!
Surely men don't want to spend precious minutes (or hours depending on manual deterity) unwrapping a woman who's bound like an Egyptian style mummy. Could you picture a dude wearing one of these to feel better about how he looked in clothes? Exactly.
So women, embrace your curves - all of them. Being comfortable enough to breath is way sexier than elastic-y containment. For the first time ever in a relationship, I actually feel sexy without trying so hard or feeling the need to be perfect and failing that, covering up. Before, I'd always buy a new shirt to wear for a date or exercise like a leg-warmer-wearing maniac. But Liam makes me feel sexy without feeling like I need to have my ta-ta's flanked by low cut v-neck shirts all the time.
Ladies, you don't need to hide what God (or Haagen-Dazs ice cream) gave you. Men, am I right or am I right?
Blog Post Fact: I ate a second helping of cheesey mashed potatoes while writing this post.
[Post Blog Note: I'm not sure what brought on this tirade. Perhaps it's the Vex I'm drinking right now (note to self:Vex makes you an angry albeit literary gifted drunk).]
Today's post was pirated from fellow blogger Peter DeWolf who, let's be honest, inspires most of us with his all kinds of awesomeness.
5 Things You May Not Know About Me (Or perhaps more aptly named, 5 Things You Wish You Never Knew About Me):
- I am currently afflicted with a "touch" of laryngitis.
Cons: Am on the verge of cancelling plans for this weekend unless I brush up on my charades skills
Pros: Sexy gravelly Kathleen Turner-esque voice (or voice of a 20-year pack-a-day smoker). May finally have a legitimate reason to use finger puppets on a date.
- I have a mole on my right nipple.
Cons: Cindy Crawford made the upper lip mole sexy but to my knowledge there has not been a campaign to increase awareness and acceptance of moles on breasts.
Pros: Showing random people my breast...er, mole.
- I think this season of the OC sucks ***!
Cons: Not seeing Benjamin McKenzie brood while wearing his trademark wife beater.
Pros: Not seeing Benjamin McKenzie beat someone's *** while wearing his trademark wife beater.
- I drive a Toyota that's 10 years old.
Cons: Possibly hitch hiking to work.
Pros: Being able to say I drive a "classic." Plus, it has a sunroof that gives me that sexy wind blown look in the summer, and a "sunroof" tan.
- I make a mean plate of stuffed mushrooms
Cons: Being able to cook little else.
Pros: Appearing somewhat competent in the kitchen, especially when mushrooms are accompanied by wine (lots and lots of wine).
This wasn't as easy as it looks - so what don't I know about you?
I'm not sure why, but anytime I gain weight it goes straight to the T&A area. Yes, you read me right...the T&A area. You know...the headlights & bumper, the jigs & reel, the alter & pew, etc etc.
When my "condition" flares up, eventually I become motivated to get back into my workout regimen [tae bo, roller skating, jello wrestling, jogging]. Lately I've noticed that jogging has become, shall we say, uncomfortable. My sports bra puts in a good effort but there's a bit too much forceful bouncing going on.
Naturally this reminds me of the slow-mo running down the beach rescue sequences from Baywatch. How did Pamela Anderson, who is a few sizes (a dozen?) larger than my modest C cup, run in a bathsuit which offers almost zero support? Maybe if you're paid a high salary running foot loose and chesty free doesn't bother you.
Maybe you do it because your male director told you to.
What if when guys gained weight, it went right to your round and wrinklies? I bet that male director wouldn't be up for some running then. Unless he was carefully cradled in a Speedo. But then that would remind me of this...
And I would forget the point of this blog post...if there was one.
Yesterday I went shopping [shock and horror]. I'm on a very strick budget so I shopping isn't something I do very often. (Can you call it a budget when it means you have no money after you pay your bills?) 
