I have had some serious fashion faux pas in my day. I pegged my pants, I had those awful bangs, I did the thing where you pull your hair up in a ponytail to shave the very back of your head (the people who thought that up should be shot, I wore acid washed denim on denim, I had scrunchies, those rubber bracelets that Madonna made so very fashionable, lace fingertipless gloves, I crimped my hair, I wore dayglow everything and in high school my jeans were so tight I had to lie down to put them on and when I took them off the imprint of the stitching stayed on my thighs for hours!
When yoga pants became all the rage and I ran down to Old Navy to grab a few pairs. Not only did they look really comfortable but I could wear them out of the house without embarrassment. (I have been known to pick up pizza in my flannel jammies)
I grabbed a mountain of them in different colors and sizes. For some reason everything in Old Navy is in mutant size. A 10 fits a 14, a 6 fits a 3....It's a nice challenge. I had sizes 4-12. I figured something would work.
I grabbed a pair of black ones, smoothed them up over my hips and checked out my ass in the mirror. I always trying things on with my back to the mirror. I figure if my ass looks big there's no reason to look any further. There wouldn't be a chance in hell that I'd be purchasing them.
My butt looked good; perky and round. I was pleased. I checked out the side view next. I was sucking in a bit, but whatever. I'm usually sucking in any way. Okay, it was good there, too. I turned to the front to check out the rest and the breath I was holding let out like a "Whoosh" when I saw what was going on south of my bellybutton.
Heeeeellooooo Camel Toe!
You could see the perfect outline of my goodie box (Ha! I said box!). Nice!
I tried on size after size of those things and even when the waist as falling off me and the ass was sagging, but the outline of my lady bits came right through.
I stormed out of the store, furious but I'm also starting to freak out. (Remember my self-esteem issues, now). Was there something wrong with me? Have I suddenly developed a case of elephantitis in my Hoo Ha and no one had enlightened me? I've always received positive feedback in the Cooter region. I think the terms "VERY nice" and "Mmmm" were uttered more than once. Big K hadn't remarked on any changes and he spends a fair amount of time in that area.
What the hell was going on? I can wear skin tight biking shorts without a shadow of my naughty box coming through. Why couldn't I wear a pair of yoga pants?
I figured the only way I could get over this trauma was to buy least 2 pairs of new shoes. I knew that toe cleavage was acceptable. I stomped in to DSW and wandered the aisles, still kvetching about my honey pot when there infront of me was the most amazing pair of heels...in the hands of this stick figure wearing yoga pants. (Told ya they were in fashion). She had her back to me and her perfect derriere was clad in chocolate brown silk. I already hated her. She turned around and Heeeeelllooo Kitty.
Apparently, I'm not the only one who has to worry about her punani being on display. How on earth can someone wear something that shows off that? I would be so embarassed.