One would think I would have enough common sense to realise that, ace that Zumba is, it will probably break you before you become efficient at it. I’ve learned that now. I get it. Especially after I lay in bed not moving, but feeling various parts of my body randomly panning with pain. It’s kind of funny (once you’ve stopped crying about it), because the pangs of pain happen without even moving. It’s almost like a kind of Body Pang Roulette. It’s fun. No really.
Anyway, needless to say this meant I was on the phone to Mr Osteo to see if I could get a last minute appointment, ahead of Saturday’s wedding. I am terrified of the idea of starting a wedding already in pain, as I know I’ll be immobile by the end of it. Which, y’know, sucks.
Book an appointment with a top quality Osteo for the following day? Errrrrrrmmmmm no. Fully booked.
And then somehow I got SUPER FUCKING LUCKY; I got a text at late o clock last night telling me I’d been booked in. GTFI.
Wake up the following morning and I realise that not only do I NOT have Osteo Pants at the ready, but I don’t even have a bra fit for the general public. I grabbed a shower after the school run (lunchtime appointment) and stared blankly at my wardrobe.
All manner of pants, but not even any “boy shorts”. And even the biggest of pants were the ones which I wouldn’t wear in a Tampax commercial. Cute and stuff, yes, decent ass coverage, yes, but it’s safe to say that if I was wearing a Tampax tampon, I’d probably have a mouse tail.
Why the hell do even some of the biggest pants come with the tiniest of gussets? I put my burger in a bun so I have a full package and everything stays in one easy container. Otherwise there’s just no point in having the bun, surely. Mind you, having said that, I’ll gladly take bacon as it comes, but that’s neither here nor there.
deliberating advice discussion debate with some friends on Facebook (including my mom), I settled for a regular pair of grey and pink pants, with the only bra I could get away with. Which is hot pink and doesn’t fit properly. I was doing ok until a bent over in front of the bathroom mirror to check my arse and crotch, and discovered a hole in the arse of the pants. No, it wasn’t a forced hole.
One pair of pants remained. A trusty pair, SC & Co, but not exactly toned down. Hot pink and neon orange. Striped. Teamed with my neon pink bra. Which didn’t have cups as full as I’d have liked. Fuck it, put on a pink t-shirt and call it fashion. I was feeling almost smug and confident until I took my clothes off in the osteo’s room, and he actually exclaimed “Holy shit! That’s bright isn’t it?”
Fuck. My. Life.
I told him he’s fucking lucky I’m wearing anything as remotely as presentable as this, given the last minute nature of the appointment. And that all other pants and bras were fucking hideous. And that if a boob pops out, he’s not to laugh directly in front of me.
About 20 minutes in, with his hands sunk deep into my stomach
fat muscles, he was talking about not being bothered by the underwear, but confused as to why women often wore non matching underwear (i.e. black pants, white bra). He also wondered why I was so worried about my choice of pants. I almost yelled at him, incredulous that he couldn’t understand the importance of Osteo Pants.
“Osteo Pants? What are those?”
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh shit. Now I had to explain Osteo Pants, in that they’re decent pants which cover the necessary parts but still access to the necessary parts. Which he thought was a BRILLIANT idea and I was all “YES! FUCKING RIGHT!!” and he was all “YES! I SHOULD MARKET THIS!” and I was all “Don’t ever google “Osteo Pants.” and he was like “Seriously, wtf, Osteo Pants are already a thing?” and I was “Dude I fucking OWN THEM.”
And then he rolled me over and stuck his fingers into my butt cheek, and that was that.