Leaving My Dignity in the Back of the Closet

Before I tell this story, I have to explain that I'm telling it because:
a) it is pretty funny; and
b) Husband was involved, so it was bound to come out anyway.

So I might as well tell my side of the story.

I am going to a conference in San Diego this week, so I was taking inventory of some of my nicer clothes. As I pulled things out of the closet I of course had to try them on, because unfortunately, clothes stay the same size and my figure has not.

My second reason for trying everything on was for a little motivation. Husband and I have a "get healthy" challenge starting May 1. Setting my sights on a dress that I haven't fit into for awhile is just the kind of goal I need to keep me going.

I pulled out a particular dress that I knew it would be tight but I wanted to know how tight, so I knew how far I had to go. It's one of those dresses that really doesn't have much of a zipper except a small one on the side...you have to pull it over your head. It went on alright, but I did have a fleeting moment where I thought, "maybe this isn't such a good idea..." Of course I did it anyway. It was pretty tight on top. But if I can get it on, I can get it off, right?

Wrong. I tugged the hell out of that thing. Pulled out all my contortionist moves. Writhed on the floor. It didn't give. I've had a few close calls in dressing rooms before, but this was different. The thing was stuck. There was no way I was going to ask Husband to help me, I'd never hear the end of it. Determined, I resorted to cutting the seam. Of course I couldn't find the seam ripper, so I tried my best with a pair of scissors to cut the seam under my armpit, which was pulled tight as it is...not successful, as you may imagine. I paced. More tugging. No luck.

Defeated, I walked downstairs, armed with the scissors and a paring knife. He was going to have to cut me out.

Long story short...no cutting or ripping necessary. After a few chuckles and some more tugging, he pulled the dreaded thing over my head. Free at last.

"You're funny," he says, "I'm writing this in my blog."

"You don't have a blog," I say.

"How do you know?" Grin.

I'm not taking any chances.