Wednesday, December 10, 2008

A La Mode

There is a woman whose son is in our Cub Scout pack who insists on calling me Wendy. As just about all of you know, that is not my name. Also, it's not a name I particularly like. And she's starting to get on my nerves with it.

It's not that she doesn't know my name. She's called me by it before. And it's not really even a joke. I get the distinct impression that it's some sort of dominance thing. It's all very "I will call you whatever I want, and what do you think you're going to do about it?"

The answer? Nothing, really. I don't answer to Wendy, but I'm not going to freak out over it, either. Not worth it.

Last night at a school function, the Wendying was accompanied by a lovely little comment: "Wendy, it's so WEIRD to see you in heels!" Umm...ok.

I do know what she meant by it...that I'm not in my scout uniform or some permutation thereof. But the thing is, she doesn't even really see me in that, very much. She doesn't come to a lot of scout functions, and the ones she does attend are things like camping where I'm not in uniform anyway (although, granted, I'm not wearing heels either). On top of that, our boys are in the same grade and we both come to school events fairly often, so it can't be THAT weird to see me in civvies. Either way, if I had made a comment like that and I wasn't actively trying to insult the person at whom it was directed, I would have made a point of also saying how nice they looked, or something.

Yeah, there was none of that. So I'm pretty sure she was being exceedingly catty. Why? No idea. Ok, SOME idea. But I do know that it's nothing I've ever done to her...while I don't like her very much, I adore her son and have been nothing but decent to her (except when I ignore her if she calls me Wendy, and that's not usually even on purpose since it's NOT MY NAME).

Unfortunately, I have to deal with her on Friday again. And what's the girly thing to do when you know you're going to be dealing with someone who is a complete and utter cow?

You make sure you look better than she does, of course.

I had to go to the mall anyway today, to exchange that sweater that Grandma accidentally-on-purpose bought. I ended up keeping the sweater, actually, but figured that while I was there, maybe I'd look for a nice blouse. I could use one, since I'm at that odd in-between-sizes phase.

I found NOTHING. Or rather, I did...about 3 gorgeous shirts, all over $70, at Banana Republic and White House/Black Market. A little out of my range at the moment. So I came home with nothing, and for that, I blame muffin tops.

A muffin top is what you get when you're a size 12, and you squeeze into a pair of size 6 jeans, forcing all of your fat to congregate right above the waistband. Got the visual? Girls with muffin tops seem to enjoy proudly showing them off in little t-shirts that are generally also too small, so they ride up and show off the muffin top in all of its pale, jiggly fishbelly glory. The shirts often have witty little slogans like "your boyfriend wants me" or "yes, I know I'm hot" or the like, and the girls wearing them never seem to notice any irony about that. Generally, those sporting a muffin top seem to be in their 20s, I've noticed...no longer nubile little fetuses of teenagers, maybe gained some weight since then, but they're still trying to pretend they wear the same size that they wore when they were in middle school. By the time they're about 30, they seem to figure out that it's a lost cause and buy some jeans that fit them. If you see a woman over 30 (a.k.a. old enough to know better) sporting a muffin top and making no effort to camouflage it with a baggy shirt, there's a pretty good bet that she's also got any combination of the following going on: really long, "airbrush-art" nails in fluorescent and/or glittery colors, peroxide hair, something in an animal print and/or with studs or rhinestones, lots of fake tanning going on and possibly a small dog in a purse. Come to think of it, girls under 30 with severe cases of muffin top fairly often have those things, too.

Now, granted, there have been times when I've been forced to wear jeans that were a bit too tight and gave me a little pork roll. Sometimes you gain weight, can't afford new jeans, and you have to do what you have to do, but I've always, ALWAYS made sure to wear a shirt that hides the muffin top. When I see a girl with a serious case of it, especially with a tight, short shirt that accentuates it (and it happens WAY more than it ever should), I always wonder...does she have a full-length mirror? Does she use it? And does she actually think that looks good? I can't fathom the thought process that allows anyone to leave the house looking like that. Muffin tops are NOT a good look.

So why do I blame muffin tops for the fact that I couldn't find a decent blouse? Because just about every shirt to be had in the mall had this whole balloony-blousy thing going on, all baggy and gathered into a band at the bottom. Cutting armholes in a trash bag and attaching the odd bow and sequin would give just about the same effect as the shirts that are out right now. Apparently there are a lot of females who think this IS a good look, and I agree, if you're going for something oompa-loompa-esque. These shirts flatter no one, not even the fetuses and the boobless stick insects that the fashion industry gears itself toward. So these shirts puzzled me. Whose brilliant idea were they, and why have they gotten so popular?

Then it occured to me: These shapeless wonder-sacks would be PERFECT for hiding a nasty case of muffin top.

So here's what apparently happened. The Fashion Industry Powers That Be saw the muffin tops, and were sore afraid. They decided that the muffin tops must be abolished at any cost, found a couple of old parachutes, put them on a couple of vapid anorexic supermodels, and deemed them to be high-fashion. The muffin tops were thus concealed (not on the supermodels, of course, since they couldn't squeeze out a muffin top if their bony little lives depended on it...just on everyone else), and all was right with their world.

Except it didn't work. Because I STILL see muffin tops. You can lead a muffin top to a shapeless sack shirt, but you can't make it drink. Or wear the shirt. I really don't know who's buying all these sack things, because the t-shirt that's 3 sizes too small is still pretty prevalent.

Also, where does that leave those of us who are not chronic muffin-top offenders, and are actually cognizant of when something does not fit? We who are not responsible for horrors and travesties of fashion wind up being punished, because we can't find a single thing to wear that actually flatters us.

So even though I hated muffin tops before, I hate them even more now for depriving me of decent clothes.

Whatever. I'll end up looking better than Wendy-Bird on Friday anyway, and I won't have spent an extra cent to do it. Perhaps I'll break out the 3-inch hot pink satin stilettos. Wendy-Bird, I'll show YOU high heels!

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Have a little patience for us muffin top women. Some of us aren't proud of the way we look. We used to look pretty hot when we were your age, but turning 40something and going through menopause changes a lot of things (mentally, spiritully, sexually, and physically). Just remember there is more of us to love (or hate). JoJo

Amie said...

Oh, no, Jo...you do NOT get to count yourself among the ranks of the muffin tops! You don't qualify at all. First of all, you don't pour yourself into jeans that are 6 sizes too small. Second of all, you don't wear really tight, short tops that show off your midriff and the resulting, umm...overflow. It's not the size of the girl that makes for a muffin top, it's the size of the clothes. See what I'm saying?

You are beautiful, you have taste, and you understand what fits you and flatters you. Never in my life have I seen a muffin top on you, and I'm quite sure I never will!

Anonymous said...

Oh Honeypot! Just you wait until you see me at Christmas. Thing have changed DRASTICALLY for this old girl (old being the key word). I don't own a pair of size 6 jeans and never have had the pleasure. So you're right, I guess I'm not one of the muffin tops you referred to, but I'm like the Pillsbury Doughboy Muffin girl-thing!!!!!! Love ya, JJ