Retroactively Mortifying Reflection

Remember when I used to blog frequently? Lately I have been spending a lot of time on the computer, both at work and at play. When I have some time to kill these days I read books and take long baths (usually at the same time). I had to blog something today though and I couldn't even wait until I was done work. It is something that at best is retroactively mortifying, but at worst could have been one of those memories that fill you with shame and stomach-sinking embarassment for your entire life.

Remember when I mentioned the 'lifts' in my last story? I bought them to help fill out the bustier I wore under my bridesmaid dress. I think everyone has an idea of what a lift might be, but just in case you are not sure; it is an insert that fits inside your bra that helps you fill it out properly. They are funny things because they are meant to be clothes-fitting-aids, but have the potential to be vanity-boosters as well.

When I last wore them the only purpose was to make my clothes fit. It was a happy side-benefit that it made it look like I had larger breasts. Today though... my clothes already fit. I don't know why I pulled them out of the drawer at all, but I am pretty sure I felt that I needed a vanity boost. More accurately I think I just wanted a boob-boost.

I was going to meet Jenna for lunch. Before I left I took a look in the mirror and decided I should throw on a necklace. The one I wanted to wear was nowhere to be seen, so I opened up my dresser drawer that usually contains such missing items. I didn't find the necklace, but I noticed the lifts. I continued my search and found the necklace and put it on. I looked at myself in the mirror and I was satisfied... but then I heard a little voice that said, "C'mon, just put 'em on for a sec..." I knew what the voice was referring to.

I went back to the drawer, pulled out the lifts and slid them into my bra. The word lift makes it sound like it just lifts your breast up, but really the part that sits under your breast is the thinnest. The padding is significantly thicker around the outside curve. When I put them in my bra I noticed a dramatic improvement in size. Suddenly my A cupped bra was containing enough material better suited to a B. My once innocent looking v-neck t-shirt looked a lot more daring than it did a moment earlier, so I grabbed a thin white shirt and wore it unbuttoned over top. Everything felt tight and deceptively secure, but I liked how it looked.

Despite liking how it looked, I had years ago sworn off any sort of bust enhancement like this*. After checking myself out in the mirror for a second or two I went to take the lifts out, but then I heard a voice say, "Just leav'em in. What's it gonna hurt?" My inner voice has a lazy way of speaking, but for some reason I keep listening to it. A moment later my lifts and I went to meet Jenna for lunch.

~~~

Before I met Jenn I needed to get some money. I pulled in to a drive-thru ATM behind a Windstar minivan being driven by a woman. The van was stopped ten feet back from the machine leaving a big vehicle-sized empty spot at the ATM. I assumed the driver was digging her card out of her purse or something so I spent the next 60 seconds waiting patiently. I still had several minutes before I had to meet Jenn so I wasn't going to be late, but after only another 30 seconds I started to get perturbed.

I began to wonder if I had time to drive around the building and back up to the ATM before this lady found her card, but then suddenly her vehicle began to move in a slow, deliberate manner (emphasis on slow). She was clearly a drive-thru-noob and she made constant course corrections to find a spot between crashing into the building and swinging out beyond arm's length of the buttons. When she stopped moving you could see she opted for maximum safety through maximum distance. I was hoping she had really long arms because she had over a metre between the ATM and her van. She ended up leaning out so far of her window that I could see her husband holding her by the belt so she didn't fall out.

After they got their cash and drove away, it was my turn at the ATM. I don't think this is where it happened, but I can't be sure. I know that I was leaning against the door when I punched in my requests on the ATM, but I think Jenn might have mentioned it if something was wrong, and all throughout lunch she didn't mention my boobs once.

~~~

After lunch I stopped at 7-11 to get some gas. I could have knocked something loose there I suppose. I distinctly remember the clerk looking from the cash register to my chest and then to my eyes before he handed me my change. I liked it, it made me feel good. For some reason I felt proud even though I was artificially enhanced. I certainly didn't think that he was checking out my chest for any reason other than normal male behavior, perhaps encouraged by my now larger rack. Thinking back on it though, maybe there was a different reason altogether.

~~~

My final stop was downtown to pay my rent. I found a good parking spot just down the block from the property management office and I walked the rest of the way. It was a beautiful day and I felt pretty as I walked down the street. A guy who resembled a leprechaun looked up at me and gave me a twinkly smile. I smiled back. I was in high spirits when I walked into the office building.

The counter top at the accounting desk is quite high, and I usually find myself with my arms folded on the counter, and then I lean on my arms as I look down at the woman counting my money. That too could have pushed a lift out of whack, but if it did I didn't notice it. I chatted for a moment about the weather finally being nice, but from her responses I got the impression that the woman wanted to get rid of me quickly. I just thought she was busy and had work to do, but in hindsight, maybe she just felt uncomfortable because of something she noticed.

About fifteen minutes later I was home. I had enjoyed my time out with the extra volume, but I was eager to get those lifts out because they made my bra too tight. Up until the moment I looked in the mirror I was oblivious to anything being wrong with my appearance. The moment I looked at my reflection my heart sunk into my stomach. I immediately saw what I now imagine both the 7-11 clerk and the woman at the desk had seen as well. One of my lifts had lifted itself right out of my bra and was clearly visible to anyone who cared to look.

The above is the reason why Sarah's lifts will forever stay in her drawer.

* Later this week I will post the story of why I originally swore off using bust enhancers like lifts

Bridesmaid's Mess...er Dress

This weekend, on 7/7/07 my little Joey got married to her man Chris*. I'll talk more about the wedding later, but let me just say that I think it was a great wedding. The men were all handsome, the women were all pretty. The food was amazing, the drinks were flowing, and the weather was sunny and warm. It was a perfect day. I just wish that the days leading up to it were as perfect. I am referring of course, to the creation of my bridesmaid dress.

It all started months ago. Joanne picked out some dresses from a store. I went down to buy one, but this particular store doesn't sell anything larger than a size 11 so I was out of luck. It turned out to be impossible to get this dress from any other source in any larger sizes, so I had to get one made. It seemed it was also impossible for anyone at this store to help me get a dress made too. They couldn't help me identify the fabric, or even the manufacturer. Apparently all they have it this store to identify the dress is some internal inventory number. It was all very frustrating, and even more frustrating was that even though it meant not having any information about the actual dress to make, I had to go elsewhere to get it made.

I went to another bridal shop and I was put in touch with a seamstress who makes dresses in her spare time, in the interests of privacy, let's just call her Helga. She said she could make me a dress no problem. She said it would cost $90 for the dress plus materials plus whatever time she spent shopping for materials. I liked how this would work. It meant that a woman who actually makes dresses for a living was going to take care of everything involved with the creation of hte dress.

I borrowed the dress from Camille - another bridesmaid - and I took it to Helga so she can make a pattern from it and buy appropriate fabric. Helga called me a week or two later and said she was all done with Camille's dress. She had some fabric that was a close match and everything seemed good to go and we still had two months until the wedding. I felt confident that everything was going to fall into place.

I called Helga a couple times to see how the dress was coming. She told me it was coming together nicely, but that she had a lot of dresses to make before mine. Since I didn't need the dress until July 7th she suggested that I come to see her on July 1st for a fitting. She said that then she'd do the alterations that day and I'd have it soon after.

Next, I need to get something to wear underneath the dress. Joanne and I head to a lingerie store and pick out a bustier. The woman helping me asks me for my size. I shyly tell her that I don't know my size and that I don't often wear a bra. She says, "Why not?" and she sounds almost angry. I explained that it is hard to find something to fit me because I am big around the chest, but I have small breasts. I tell her that whenever I find a bra that fits around the chest it is made on the assumption that I've got much bigger boobs. Since I don't like walking around with wrinkly looking twins, I just wear a sports bra instead.

The woman puts me in a change room and goes to get a bra for me to try on. Her plan is to find one that fits so she knows my size... instead of just measuring me. She comes back a moment later and hands a bra in the door. I check out the tag - 34B. I think it is funny that this woman thinks I couldn't ever find a 34B. I handed it back right away.

I don't know what she went to do, but I waited in that chilly room with my shirt off for the next five or six minutes. By the time she showed up with another bra to try my boobs were actually a little larger because I was getting so nipply. Not big enough though... she handed me a 36C.

I thought it was ridiculous that we were playing this guessing game. I already told her I too was wide in the chest and small in the boobs for the average bra to fit me, and she hands me to the most common sizes ever. I put on my shirt and went back out to explain the situation better. She finally understood and she said we had to order something. I said that was fine.

A couple weeks later she calls and my bustier is in. I go to try it on, and it was a struggle. It was hot outside, and this time the change room was very warm and the bustier was tight and clinging to my damp skin. After I got it on (with some help) the sales lady came in and said that it didn't look like it quite fit. She told me to wait a moment and she came back with another one that fit much better. I wish I knew why they just didn't give that one to me in the first place, but at least I had something that would fit around me properly, so I was happy. Neither bustier fit me in the bust though, as both were too large. To fix this I had to get "lifts" as well. This meant that for Joey's wedding I'd have big boobs, and that also made me happy.

Finally the July 1st long weekend arrives. I call Helga on Saturday June 30th and she asks me to come see her at 7:30pm the evening of the 1st. Part of me is thinking that she won't be doing the alterations right afterwards, but I assume she knows what she is doing. For all I know it only takes an hour to alter a dress.

The next day I am pretty excited. I was about to own my very first dress. I'm never going to wear it again of course, but it will sure look pretty in my closet, and it will always remind me of Joey. I put on my bustier and lifts on under my shirt and headed to Helga's house.

I walked in and she tells me the dress is in her living room. I walk around the corner and saw a dress hanging on a rack. "... is this my dress?" I said. I knew it couldn't be my dress, but it was the only one I could see. She told me it was.

"... but it is white." I said.

"Oh there wasn't enough fabric, so I used this."

I said, "... this dress is white... I can't wear a white dress to a wedding." To me it was absurd that she, a seamstress as a bridal shop, would even consider for a moment to make a white dress to wear at a wedding for a woman who wasn't the bride. She not only considered it, she made the whole dress!

"Oh it isn't white, it is sort of ivory." She tells me. "See, this fabric is pure white." and she places a bolt of white fabric next to the white dress. I couldn't tell the difference. She explained that it only looks the same in the dim light of her apartment, and that in the sun it will be different. "I can't rely on bright light to make my dress appear not-white. Why didn't you just buy more fabric??! I can't wear this dress. " I was pissed off.

"There is no fabric in the city to match what you need. I looked everywhere." She seemed defensive. People often sound defensive when they are lying. She simply waited until the previous evening to put the dress together and by the time she realized she didn't have enough fabric, all the stores were closed for the Canada Day long weekend. She used the white fabric because it is the closest match that she already had on hand.

The next day I went to Wal-mart and picked up the fabric. I was nervous picking fabric because I hadn't seen the dress in months. I was scared the colour was going to be way off once it was side-by-side with another dress. I didn't have time to worry about it much. I was too worried that I'd have no dress for Joanne's wedding at all, and have to show up wearing just the bustier - Madonna style.

Helga told me she'd have it ready for a fitting the next day. Thankfully she was right. I went in for the fitting and she mentioned she still needed the tulle. You have to understand that to me this word was "tool". I had never heard of tulle before, so I just thought she needed some sort of sewing implement. I must have looked confused because she explained that it is the meshy net-like stuff that fills out the skirt portion of the dress. She said she needed to get some that is a shade or two darker than the fabric of the dress. She told me that Unique Textiles is close to where she works and that they might even have some where she works.

The next evening all is quiet. Helga should be using the time to put the final touches on my dress. To my surprise the following morning she calls and asks if I had bought the tulle yet. I guess I was dumb not to have verified that she was getting the tulle. I angrily said I'd go get it. I drove to Unique Textiles and picked up some tulle and dropped it off for her. When I was at the fabric store I noted that I saw another bolt of fabric that matches the fabric of the dress. It seemed funny that she, an experienced seasmstress, couldn't find the fabric anywhere in the city, and yet I found it in the only two fabric stores I have been in in my entire life.

On Friday, the day before the wedding, I called Helga as soon as I was done work. She wasn't home yet so I left a message asking when I can come pick it up. When she called back she said the dress wasn't ready yet. "It will be ready tomorrow evening." she tells me. She sounded very firm and confident of this deadline. Under normal circumstances this would have inspired me with a little bit of confidence, but instead it just made me nervous. "Ok, Helga. I need the dress tomorrow *MORNING*."

"It is a morning wedding?" She asks. You could tell that her unspoken words were, "You didn't tell me it was morning wedding", as if that would have made her finish it faster. She sounded frustrated and I know that I was very frustrated. I asked why she hadn't finished it the day before and she said she was too busy. Too busy watching TV I bet. She said she would get straight to work and the dress would be ready by 8:30 or 9:00.

At 8:45 I was at Joey's lingerie party, but I called Helga. I asked how the dress was coming. She said it was done, she was just finishing up. I said "Great! I'll see you soon." and I left the party to go get the dress. On the way there I called Helga again to find out how much it will cost and she said $90. I was thankful a fight was avoided when she didn't charge me for the other materials or her shopping time, or even for making an entire dress out of white fabric. I said I was going to go get the bustier and stop at a bank machine and I'd be there in 15 minutes. She said, "..... oh..... ok."
"Is that a problem?"
"Well, I still have to finish the tulle, it is being finicky... and I have to iron it as well. It won't be ready until 10:00."

I went back to the party until 10:00. At 10:15 I was at Helga's house and she said it still wasn't ready. I waited. At 11:15 the dress was finally ready, less than 11 hours before I needed to put it on. As far as dress-making goes, I am pretty sure that is about as last-minute as you can get.

The wedding went great. The dress turned out to be a great match. It was a little long in the skirt, but otherwise it was nearly perfect. As it happens I am an awesome fabric-picker-outter. This entire dress-making ordeal taught me a lot though. Next time things will be much different. Soon, depending on the style of wedding Megan is having, I will be a bridesmaid again. When that time comes I will know better and I will avoid having a dress made in this fashion.

Megan, I'm telling you now: for your wedding I am wearing a jean skirt and a t-shirt.



* 7/7/07 was also the wedding date for my friends Deanne and Tara. I hope you guys had a great time! I wish I was there to see it! Oops! I just re-read that sentence and it looks like Deanne and Tara got married to each other. That isn't the case at all. Hopefully this clarifies:

Congratulations Deanne and Darrin!
and
Congratulations Tara and Leo!
and of course
Congratulations Joanne and Chris!

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Small Town Saskatchewan

I drove out to the farm this weekend. Sometimes I feel nostalgic going out there because so much about the area has changed since I was a kid. Buildings have deteriorated and have been abandoned or replaced. People have either moved away or passed away. Even some of the trees have changed to a dramatic extent from the tornado 20 years ago. Some of the towns themselves are disappearing. You can still find Waitville, SK on Google Maps, but the population of that town is zero. I like to imagine what it was like when more people were around, when towns like this were bustling with activity. I try to put myself in the place of the people that lived in one of these towns during it's prime, having to watch it slowly dry up year after year. I would have thought they feel very melancholy at times. After driving through Crystal Springs I realized that not everyone feels the same gloomy, lonely, nostalgic feelings as me.

The speed limit abruptly dropped to 50 km/h from 90, but I wasn't going that fast as it was. The road was so poor that even 90 would have been dangerous. The slower speed allowed me to take a closer look at the town. The first building was the grey colour of wood that has long had the paint eroded from it. I imagined it was a store of some kind, as it had a facade front. It was tilting slightly, and one window was boarded up. The other window was just a hole, with obvious damage around it. One could walk right inside, but I didn't think anyone had been in ages.

A few more buildings looked to be in similar states. I noted some had cars parked next to them that didn't look as if they had moved in a decade or two either. Then I came across The Crystal Springs hotel, but it no longer had a sign up anymore identifying it as a hotel. I was wondering if it too was closed. I remember as a kid my grandpa would go there to play pool and have a few beers with his friends. This time though, no cars were parked in front. Right next door was what looked to be a garage, but it too was vacant and had been for years. The two places that would probably be the busiest in a small town were both looking very dead. I guess there just isn't enough customers anymore.

The church was the next building I noted. I figure god still had a few customers, but not today. It looked better kept than that other buildings, but again no cars were parked in front. My window was down and the only sounds were the birds, the breeze, and my car. It was kind of creepy. It only takes a minute to drive down the main road, so it isn't a big place but in that minute I didn't see anyone at all. No current signs of life, just evidence that people had been there once. Granted I didn't see it all. The town extended beyond the road I was on, but from what I could see, this was a ghost town. I smiled to myself that the church was empty because there wasn't a soul left in town.

I found myself feeling sad again, for this town that seems to lose life with each passing year. The town is literally losing lives. Like my grandpa who died recently, the inhabitants of this town likely have already passed on, or it won't be long. My heart went out again, not just for the people who see their town disappearing, but also because the town itself, their home, is a reminder of all the people that are no longer with them.

I came to the last house in town. At first glance I would have guessed it was also unoccupied. The paint was flaking off all over, the grass wasn't mowed, and the front step was being taken over by the tree behind it. This house was a little different from the others. It had curtains, and little knick-knacks in the window. There was a big antenna on the roof, and I could see there was some kind of backyard. I imagined this house was occupied, just that most of the traffic in and out and other signs of life took place on the side I could not see. I didn't feel bad for this person, living in this dried up town, because no matter how many people were already gone, it wasn't enough. In a town that seemed devoid of life, this guy still felt the need to give everyone an extra incentive to go away, for his door was clearly labelled with a 'No Trespassing' sign.

Jenna: Emergency Apology!

So, unbeknownst to me, the term "Muffin Top" is used by a lot of people. Apparently it is pretty much exclusively used to describe the look where a person is wearing pants that are too tight and their skin flops over their waist-line. I just found this out yesterday and I was mortified because I have been calling my friend Jenna by that 'nickname' for months, but I had no idea of it's usage!

Jenna I am so sorry!! I can't believe you were letting me call you that all this time! I feel so bad. You already know why I call you that, but for anyone who was thinking I was being mean...
As we all know, the top of the muffin is the best part, and Jenn is totally the best!