The Unforgiving Dress

You fill up my senses

The countdown has begun. Only five days to go. FIVE days, less than a week and I have a very unforgiving dress to fit into for the start of the Football Season at
Beautiful Downtown Bramall Lane.

She wears a dress for the football match?

I know, how bizarre. But never fear I am not stood on the kop singing the greasy chip butty.

I am in the “posh” part the members and corporate area. AND I work there.  How exciting even though I have to wear a dress. If I wasn’t working though I would be on the Kop because when you are from Sheffield you are either red or blue. And I am most definitely red and white. As are the whole family except Dad.

Four seasons ago I started work on match days hobnobbing with the members making sure that their needs were met and they enjoy the match day experience. Even if they do not enjoy the actual match (which is unfortunately a regular occurrence)

Last season we got a new uniform. A black jacket and dress. The dress is very unforgiving, I know its unforgiving, because it was last season.

It’s now this season and I haven’t ran for a long time. My muffin top has been replaced by a full on bakers dozen and a couple of bloomers too.

You see I’m an emotional eater. I eat when I am happy, I eat when I am sad, I eat when I am stressed, I eat when I am distraught, I basically eat if I have an emotion any emotion. There has been a full on tsunami of emotions. I have eaten and not moved much although when typing my fingers and hands are pretty impressive but I don’t think that counts.

So I know that when Saturday comes I will have to accommodate a Big Squeeze.

A squeeze that has not been seen since my teens, squeezing into those oh so skin tight jeans.
Not like the ones we have today which are sat on the hip. No we had to pull ‘em up to our natural waistline. This produces a whole five inches or so of zipper to pull up. This activity was like an Olympic event.  It often involved laying on your bed with a coat hanger threaded through the zipper,  pulling whilst simultaneously wriggling and writhing on the bed (alone no one needs to witness this sort of writhing) getting hot and sweaty,  holding your breath for an unbelievable amount of time until that god damn zipper went up.
Gently easing off the bed, after resuming an upright position and breathing a sigh of relief. The pointy Rebina shoes went on and off I tottered into town for a Grolsch and a Hooch or two.

 Saturday will soon be upon us and I break out in a cold sweat when I think about that unforgiving dress.

Now normally I would just opt for some holdy- in- knickers (Spanx) but the problem with them is that what they hold in has to escape somewhere and with the holdy-ins they roll it, in and up. So the rolls of womanly wobbliness end up just below the bust line causing the illusion of having four boobs with the lower pair unfortunately being the larger package.

So holdy-in’s are out.

Do I try a try a Full Monty body wrap? That would suit me sat in the garden shed with a mars bar, wrapped in cling film listening to hot chocolate.

I know it’s obvious Jillian Michaels tells me to work and push it every day – Its working but it aint moving.

Jason Vale tells me to juice and blend anything to within an inch of its life but he isn’t married to a fantastic baker who makes Paul Hollywood look like Michael Crawford in the kitchen.

Pat a Cake Pat a Cake Bakers Man

Mitch can make the tastiest breads and cakes. But not satisfied with that he cooks 99% of our meals all from scratch so they are healthy, nutritious and taste fantastic.  This is great news for wifey and kids but not so great news for wifey’s figure.

I am well aware it’s my entire fault. I have eaten too much, not moved enough and worn too many pairs of leggings that stretch with the spreading.

 

Note to self they do not look good and yes your ass is fat in that.

I’ve got a feeling that I will be nipping to the shops to grab myself an extending black dress and hope that I don’t have to fasten my jacket.

Lordy Lou I hadn’t even thought about getting my bingo wings into my jacket until I started typing this.

But at least I know my neck tie will fit – it just needs an iron.

Wish me luck.