At the ripe old age of fifty-six, I have reached an entirely epic new level of Poppins sexy with the addition of the torture device known as compression hose. I had a procedure done last Thursday on some uncomfortable very gross veins…oh, wait- that’s what Dan thought they were called when he was a kid. Anyway, I have to wear these suckers for two weeks. I did not know that going into the procedure or I would have opted to wait until deep winter instead of a late Birmingham summer. Okay, truthfully, I would have kept the very gross veins and opted for zero days of this hot and sticky misery.
One positive; you burn about 2000 calories just trying to get them on (cussing while getting into them burns even more). I can’t wait to walk Marley through the neighborhood in these beauties…I swear I look like Vickie Lawrence when she played Momma on The Carol Burnett Show. Thankfully I live in Southside Birmingham, so nobody will care a lick what I look like. Hell, I might even start a new fashion trend!
This morning I was sharing with some friends that I’d just gone for a long walk with Marley while wearing the evil hose and sweat pants. Yes, I said ‘and sweat pants’. Thanks to the gift of spell check, I typed swear pants instead of sweat pants. Truly a Freudian slip. Dear lord, that was hot- and not hot in a good way.
I have a week and four days left of this. I keep praying that I’ll drop a few pounds from this experience, but I’m afraid all that is happening is that I’m becoming more sartorially creative trying to camouflage the dang hose from my students. I’m thinking that this menopause thing is for the birds…or at least good for a few laughs along the way. I keep hearing the song, You’re So Vein…oh, wait…