Okay fellas, I have a secret to tell you.
You may think that my breasts are this perky, my ass that perfectly rounded and my legs this shapely. And for certain they are. With the help of an ironclad brassiere, a pair of underwear that took 5 minutes of humiliation to wiggle into, and of course 3 inch heels that kill my back and feet. Har har to you - it is all a ruse. There is a lot of work going on under this dress to fulfill your fantasy that a) my 35-year-old, mother of 2 body can defy gravity and b) all I’m wearing under this dress is a low cut bra and a thong.
Whoa. How did we get here from there?
It was a scene right out of the Bridget Jones' Diary movie (the original, I think). You know the one, where Hugh Grant is putting the moves on Rene Zellweger on her bedroom floor and he discovers (much to his amusement and her horror) that she is wearing grannie panties. So yeah, it was exactly like that, except instead of Hugh Grant putting the moves on me, it was my doctor rotating my knee into very uncomfortable positions and instead of grannie panties I was wearing spanx.How, you ask, did I get myself into this predicament?
Well, I cleverly thought that while I was at my check-up appointment to discuss certain medications, along with Cam who needed to get a booster shot, that it would be a good time to mention that my knee was killing me and ask what was going on and had I seriously effed it up or was it okay and I’m just a big baby who has a low pain tolerance? And yes, I did ask it exactly like that, and all in one single breath. That’s when things went sideways.
“Hop up on the table and let me take a look” he said. (And for all you ladies out there with doctor fantasies, rest assured, my doctor is super easy on the eyes.) Instead of hopping I wobbled, and I sat facing him with my legs hanging over the edge of the table. Cue music, dim lights. I look at him quizzically as he pulls out a sheet (the one you cover your bottom half with when you are wearing one of those gowns that ties up in the back). “Lay back so I can take a look” he says, and I turn bright red thinking he hasn’t heard me correctly. I mean I said "my knee is killing me”. Perhaps he heard “please look at my vagina”. Hey, you laugh, but how else do you explain it?
So I, (who am always game for a little fun), lay back on the table, draping the sheet over my torso. He takes my left leg by the ankle and starts bending my leg at the knee while he pushes on my knee cap. “How does that feel?” he asks, and I flash back to all those Three’s Company episodes with Jack and Chrissy, full of sexual innuendo, as Janet eavesdrops through the kitchen door. “That’s okay, but OUCH that hurts!” I yelp as he pushes on the side of my knee while turning it in an angle it has never seen. “What about this?” he asks as he pushes on the bottom of my knee cap. “That actually feels pretty good,” I respond, winking. That’s when HE blushed. Hey, I figured it was a fair reply given the situation. I should point out that while all of this was going on, Cameron was standing on the foot stool next to the exam table, poking me with her fingers saying “good job mom-mee, good job!!”. Kind of a mood killer. Next time I’ll leave her in the waiting room.
It wasn’t until it was all over that I realized the entire purpose of the sheet was meant to protect my modesty. I mean, imagine if all I had been wearing under my dress was a thong?! I definitely would have had all my business exposed. Sadly, I was wearing the equivalent of biking shorts empowered with the strength of Genghis Khan, holding all of my stuff up and in and flat and round in all the right places. A miracle come to fruition in a simple article of clothing.
The good news is that I can resume my exercise program so that one day I will be able to only wear a thong under my dress and look this good (I can dream). The bad news is that I don’t have another doctor’s appointment for 2 entire months.