Like releasing a parachute

Every once in a while you need a little help. Sometimes you need help cooking, sometimes colving a problems, but sometimes it’s more personal.
I always knew I needed help but it took my a while to admit it and long time to find it. It took an even longer time to share my story, but I know there is someone out there that will be helped by my testimony.
Most of my life I have been a “big-boned, fluffy girl.” There have been time that it has been a burden but most of the time I can just roll with. I know that I will never buy my clothes in the petite department or be able to shop in those specialty dress shops for the hungry and malnourished.
I will never be able to just walk in and pick up an item of clothing and know that it will fit perfectly when I get it home. It’s just not going to happen.
But I have found the help I need and after struggling with it for more than a year I’m finally comfortable.
In early 2007, when I took my hiatus from the newspaper, I was determined to find a new job in another field.
While shopping in ones of the stores designed for the “larger woman” I found the solution to end all solutions — a product called Spanx®.
I bought some Spanx®, one pair of regular ones and a pair of pantyhose to wear for my interviews. According to the infomercial featuring Gwynth Paltrow (should have been a sign) Spanx® could smooth the lumps and make anyone look pounds smaller. Who needs pounds? One or two would be fine with me.
The day of my interview, I took plenty of time getting ready so I could deal with my Spanx® without breaking a sweat. I knew if they were going to hold everything in, I might have to struggle a little to get in them.
I knew the moment I put the pantyhose on that I shouldn’t wear them. They just had that feeling of ill-fitting hosery, but I thought everything was going to be OK.
I arrived at the place of my interview. It was raining so I had to contend with my umbrella, briefcase, purse ... and my Spanx®.
The very first step I took when I got out of my car was a bad one. I felt the top part of my pantyhose shift ever-so slightly. I took another step and they moved again. I kept walking and my Spanx® kept moving. It was like they were keeping time with my stride.
I had to walk a long way and by the time I reached the door, my Spanx® had rolled down my torso and postitioned themselves at the top of my legs, a little higher than a pair of thigh-high hose. Everything that had been held in and smoothed over had been set free. Releasing a parachute come to mind. By this time I was hot, my hair was frizzy from the humidity and I was taking itty bitty steps because my miracle Spanx® were binding my legs together.
I made it in the door and asked to be directed to the restroom, where I burst into hysterical laughter. I had to literally pull myself together and tuck my self back in.
Needless to say my Spanx® were not the solution I had hoped for, but that few minutes I took to laugh at myself was almost worth it.