"Single-use only" clothing

Like many Americans, I’m not particularly thrilled with my current weight. For this reason, when I shop for clothes, I try to buy inexpensive items that deemphasize the more accentuated areas of my body. This profusely limits my choices and leads to bouts of depression.

I often find myself in a dressing room with two different sizes: the size I think I am and the next size larger. When the first fits, I’ll try on the second and, provided I’m not swallowed up by it, will end up purchasing the larger size. I do this based on the general rule that everything shrinks at least 10% after the first run through the washer and dryer.

My husband says I over-dry our laundry which may be related to the fact that a person could conceivably receive 2^nd degree burns from the clothing if they tried to empty my dryer. In my defense, our dryer possesses a fine line between “not enough” and “too much” which is ironically very much like my wardrobe.

My biggest issue with lower extremity apparel is the presence of “muffin tops.” This happens when a person’s abdominal girth exceeds the capacity of their waistband and, obeying the laws of physics, the fat has to go somewhere which is why it ends up bubbling out over the tops of their pants. I don’t like seeing this on other people and seriously cannot tolerate it on myself.

Contributing to the formation of muffin tops is the cantankerous attitude of blue jeans that have just exited the laundry cycle. Jeans will not fit well until they have been worn for about six hours. This is why I wear my jeans two or three times before I wash them again. It isn’t as gross as it sounds because I try my best not to get them dirty.

My love for jeans has forced me to make some strategic decisions regarding shirts that highlight my mid-section: don’t buy them.

Last summer, I picked up a new top for a bargain price and I was delighted because it was sleeveless, but did not reveal the mini-muffin tops produced in my armpits by my supportive undergarments. In addition to this feature, it also hung loosely around my waist in a flattering manner.

In my excitement, I forgot the cardinal rule of the dryer as well as the total disregard of the words “dry clean only” located discreetly on the underside of the tag. The first time I wore it was the best and it never got that good again.

I thought I’d wear it this past weekend because I love to torture myself with impossible tasks like ironing an uncooperative shirt. I was freshly showered, but after standing over the steaming iron for 20 minutes trying to smooth over the intricate details and around oddly-placed buttons, I was dripping with perspiration. Still, I was determined to make the top work for me one more time.

I put the shirt on and realize that if I bent over, I’d show more than I wanted to show at a child’s birthday party. After applying a safety pin, I was administering my deodorant when I noticed my bulging armpits peeking out at me. After readjusting several times, I tore off the offending article and grabbed a different shirt that I detested slightly less.

I never seem to cease learning lessons in my life. This time, I think the saying “buyer beware” has finally penetrated my cranium once and for all; at least, I sincerely hope so.