confession: spandex is insensitive

Last week I discovered the dark side of spandex.

I decided to wear a tank top as an undershirt for a nice linen top I have (*note: a good way to get your daily flax seed--wear linen).

I noticed the top was a bit snug when I put it on.  So I made the move that most women of my size do to adjust clothing that doesn't quite fit the way it should.  I grabbed the front of the shirt with both hands and pulled it away from my body as hard and far as I could stretch it.  This is especially handy with cotton based knits.  Warning: if you stretch it more than 3 seconds, it becomes your husband's shirt.

I snapped that baby out with a flourish born from years of practice and a knowledge of just exactly how relaxed my clothes should be.  It felt much better, so I grabbed the linen shirt and threw it on and headed out the door to work.

As I drove, I noticed the top was feeling a bit snug again.  No problem I thought, I just didn't stretch it long enough.  I knew the dangers of doing things like applying makeup, texting, and eating a full size breakfast from McDonald's while doing 55 mph down a county road while driving.  Yes, I have done all those things and lived to tell about it.  But I am older and wiser, so I knew I would have to ignore this top that was getting tighter by the second and focus on driving in a safe, responsible manner.

After arriving in the parking lot at work and climbing out of my car, I looked down and noticed that not only had the top shrunk two sizes, it had also crawled upward, exposing two inches of my abdomen.  Now at my age and after giving birth three times, this was not a pretty sight.  I quickly yanked it down and rushed inside to my office.  I locked my door and did the 2 hand snap.  Ahh.  I could breathe again.  It fell into place on my body like an old friend.

About thirty minutes later I noticed I was feeling the tank top squeeze again and looked down.  The top looked like it would fit a Barbie doll.  What was happening?  Was this thing possessed?  I decided to go to the ladies' room and get to the bottom of this.  I mean the top of this.  I whipped that sucker off and looked at the label.

And I saw it.  Clearly written in white lettering on my nice Johnny Cash-black top: "95% spandex, 5% cotton".  I was aghast.  I thought when I bought it that it said 5% spandex.  All us BBW know that a little spandex can make a garment look and fit like a dream.  Five percent spandex in a pair of pants means no buttspring, and no knee balloons.  It's like magic.  And in a top, it can be the difference between your bustline looking like a majestic mountaintop, or an avalanche.

I discovered that day that more than 5% spandex means a descent into fashion hell that can only be escaped when you strip the offending garment off.  Now I was not about to go topless at work, so my only alternative was doing the 2 hand snap every 30 minutes or so.  I had to time everything that day around my snaptime.  Meetings, trips to the secretary's pool, reporting to my boss, all had to be timed to happen within that 30 minute post-snap window of time.  And this went on all day long.

By the time I got home and peeled myself out of my spandex hell, I was exhausted.  I swore never to wear anything with spandex without checking the label at least twice before I purchased it, and to make the cashier read it back to me at the checkout counter.

I also learned this:
1. If you have to hand-snap your clothing, wait at least 30 minutes before you leave the house.  That is the amount of time it takes to find out if said item is possessed by a spandex devil.
2. The tighter the top, the bigger your hips look.
3. Spandex was invented by a dominatrix who is a size 0 and thinks the whole world should have to be peeled out of their clothing.
4. Spandex makes a good sex toy.  (It's called recycling.  Don't ask for details because I have been sworn to secrecy.)

Have a great day, and relax...confession is good for the (rubber) soul.

~cath xo
Twitter @jonesbabie