In the last 13 years, I’ve had two different weight loss surgeries, breastfed my firstborn, required two different C-sections (horizontally and vertically), and gained and lost too much weight to count.
At 42, I am finally at my most healthy weight (woo-hoo!). But, now I have baggage—literally—all over my body. My boobs droop too low, my upper arms wiggle, my inner thighs jiggle, and my stomach…well, that’s a picturesque landscape replete with land mines and curved roads. The vertical C-section scar looks like a second tuchus with some cellulite and stretch marks mixed in for the extra wow factor.
So now that it’s almost time to take this body and finally put it into the coveted size 8/10 “Mom of the Bar Mitzvah boy” dress, the work of finding the proper undergarments begins.
Plan A: Someone at Neiman Marcus (where I bought dress #1…more on that later) sold me some $100 full body leotard thing. Then several months later, I try it on again at home. My mom says, “Oy, it makes your boobs look saggy!” I had already ripped the tags off, but the nice lady at Neimans allowed me to mail it back for a refund.
Plan B: Bra shopping. Pick a number and letter between 36 to 44 and B to E and I’ve been it—I’ve been a size 36B, 36C, 36D, 36DD, 38C, 40C, 40D, 42D, and 44E (for the record, the 44E was my nursing bra size). It wasn’t until I breastfed that I realized, oh wow, the right one produces three times the amount of milk as the left one. It’s also bigger.
So I’ve got to find a bra that somehow fits both boob sizes, holds me up, and yet doesn’t feel like it’s digging too deep into my back, under-boob, or shoulders. It also needs to properly contour and provide a flattering shape—not too smushed, not too much cleavage, not too much side spillage, and so on. Upon deciding 12 weeks before the big day that I didn’t love dress #1, I splurged on dress #2. This dress required some sort of molded cup bra situation. After three different Nordstrom ladies assisted me in selecting the “perfect” bra, now what to do about south of the boobs?
Plan C + Plan B: The ladies suggested some waist trimmer contraption for my mid-section. It looked slimming on me in the store, and I figured I’d buy some not-too-much-control-top pantyhose to go along with it (does suckage + suckage = too much suckage?). Brought both home and tried it on with dress #2, but, ummm, why is the trimmer moving up and down my midsection when I move? And what is that back fat stuff now appearing at the top of my back? I didn’t even know I had back fat?
Plan D + Plan B: High-waisted Spanx. Interesting concept, kind of like a personal body sausage maker. Definitely holds it all in and is moderately comfortable… after adapting to a new breathing technique. And surprise, it doesn’t even require underwear! You literally squat and this magic hole opens for peeing. Which brings me to…
Plan E + Plan B: High-waisted underwear sucker-inner. Wondering if it too will slide up and down my back when wearing under the dress, but alas! This contraption comes with straps that you can attach to your bra! Huh, I guess I could use the not-too-much-control-top pantyhose with that option (but will that too cause too much suckage?). Or I could go with…
Plan F: Back to dress #2 store for a fitting. Found an all-in-one molded cup bra and tank suckage piece. It’s actually comfortable, fits well and doesn’t manufacture back fat. Now do I marry it to the plain pantyhose or Spanx?
I still have three weeks left until my son’s bar mitzvah to decide which nip and tuck device(s) will suit me best. But after spending $479.62, I’m left wondering, why didn’t I just go for that laser lipo?
Update: On March 19, 2016, my boy became a bar mitzvah. The ceremony was beautiful, the party was amazing, and Plan F + Spanx provided the perfect amount of suckage.