My company Christmas party was actually last weekend, but I've been pondering it all week long. It was at one of the company's partner's houses, very fancy, very new, and rather nerve-wracking. We were all in our best clothes, on our best behaviour, trying desperately not to spill red wine on the white carpet. To the best of my knowledge, no one did. I, however, had eaten very little and had a couple glasses of wine, so when I headed home I was not drunk, but very very sleepy -- that's what wine does to me. Very sexy, I know. If anyone has been thinking of seducing me with a bottle of wine, well STOP RIGHT THERE -- not the best strategy. Anyway, I got all gussied up in my black girdle and all. All night I couldn't wait to peel the thing back off. So when I walked in my front door at 11pm, I headed straight for my couch and sank into its downy loveliness. And there I stayed until 6:30am Saturday morning, when I awoke to cat whiskers/lips gently nuzzling my face. I opened my eyes, and Jess, all 21 pounds of him, was sitting on my belly and staring into my eyes, willing me to wake up and top off the food dish. The first thing I realized was, wow, I slept in all my makeup and all my clothes. Then, wow, Jess usually hurts my innards when he sits on my tummy like that, why can't I feel him? Then the dawning of understanding: I couldn't feel him because I HAD SLEPT IN MY GIRDLE and my entire abdominal area was numb. That, and the tight stretchy black fabric brutally holding in my fat had formed a rather trampoline-like surface for him, and he was enjoying the unusual springiness of my belly until i knocked him off and sat up, gasping for breath.
I peeled off the girdle but it took about 10 minutes for me to feel my guts again, and even longer for the dents of the seams to puff back up from my delicate white skin... guess i'll retire the black girdle until the next Christmas party or unexpected hot date.