Sisterhood of The Grappling Pants

We all have that one pair of jeans that we just love. You know the ones — they make our butts look really good, but they are just a smidge too tight. One has to grapple to fit into these jeans.

For every woman's toolkit.

For every woman's toolkit.

To put them on, first you have to do that Blue Jeans Jig. The one where you dance and hop around the room, slightly resembling a chicken with it’s head cut off, while you try to pull the jeans over the mountains that your thighs have become. You shuffle and cavort while you force yourself into these blue jeans.

Once the jeans are fully loaded, you lie on the bed and suck in your gut as far as you can muster; grip both sides of the pants with one hand, and manipulate a pair of pliers with the other hand (trying to pull up the zipper). Every woman needs one really good pair of pliers.

With the jeans zipped and snapped, you have lifted your butt, so that it looks like it did twenty years ago. However, your guts are now spilling over the top of your jeans in a “Muffin Top,” and it’s possible that the strange pain under your ribcage is a new hernia. I can’t tell you what to do about the hernia, but I can tell you how you can disguise the Muffin Top: wear a flowing blouse that is loosely belted at the equator.

Men always wonder why it takes women so long to get dressed! It ain’t easy being beautiful.

There are a few important points to remember if you choose to achieve this look:

  • Get the pockets of your pants smoothly in place before you zip the pants. Otherwise, you will have an unsightly lump, and will have to unzip and redo the process.
  • Don’t plan on drinking anything while you wear them.
  • Don’t expect to eat anything once you are stuffed into the jeans.
  • Don’t plan to sit down.
  • Don’t let anyone close enough to hug you, else they will feel the muffin top and destroy the illusion. In this case, “air kisses” are acceptable.

If you have never had this experience, please do not feel obliged to comment, Skinny B****. Those of us in the Sisterhood of The Grappling Pants do not choose to hear it. As surely as the sun rises in the east, your time will come.

I was skinny once. It was a loooong time ago — back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and Andy Rooney wore diapers. Come to think of it, Andy might be “wearing diapers” again, but I digress.

As a teenager, I was so thin that folks said I could hide behind a bean pole. I ate like a horse, but my metabolism was on overdrive and burned up the calories. Ah, those were the days, my friends.

A decade later, that metabolism slowed down a bit. When I was expecting my first child, one man had the nerve to say that I looked like a watermelon on a string. He was the only person who said that to my face.

I am not normally a violent person, but I was pregnant, for Heaven’s sake! Hormones were raging. At least, that was my defense — and I’m a free woman today.

By the time that I was pregnant with my second child, it was a different story. I had not lost my “baby fat.” When I was five months pregnant, I went to a fancy dinner party. Among the guests was a local veterinarian, who thought he was a pretty funny guy. He loudly announced in a deep, booming baritone, “I hope you aren’t planning on popping that baby tonight, because I don’t work on a heifer as big as YOU unless her head is tied to a tree.”

He is now a soprano.

I am not normally a violent person, but I was pregnant, for Heaven’s sake! Hormones were raging. At least, that was my defense — and I’m a free woman today.

Twenty-some-odd years later, I have still not lost all that “baby fat.” Fortunately, I rarely have the urge to put on those tight jeans, but every now and then insanity prevails. These days, with the arthritis in my hands, using the pliers is difficult. I have to enlist my husband for a team effort (which insults what remains of my dignity).

If you see me in my tight jeans, and notice a “Muffin Top,” I urge you NOT to say a thing. I am not normally a violent person, and I’m not pregnant, but I’m menopausal. Hormones are raging — but that won’t work as a defense. Texas is one of those states that have a “three strike” statute. I’d like to remain a free woman.

Raise your hand if you are in “The Sisterhood.” If you are not one of us, go eat some bean sprouts or something.

  13 comments for “Sisterhood of The Grappling Pants

  1. June 11, 2009 at 9:44 am

    ROTFL!
    This really made my morning!(-:
    Yup been there done that!(-:
    To funny!
    Love the Vets comment!!!! I can just imagine that!!!!!! LOL!!!!!!!
    [rq=2618,0,blog][/rq]New Flower Species

  2. June 11, 2009 at 2:23 pm

    I am so LMAO! Amen sister!
    Wishing you a scent-sational day!
    Patty
    [rq=3441,0,blog][/rq]Picture of the Day 6/11/09

  3. Glennis
    June 11, 2009 at 5:17 pm

    A nice amusing post, with lots of truth! Haha
    WOW that nasty man was so rude to you, I am amazed your still a free women. someone needs to slap him around a bit!

  4. June 11, 2009 at 7:11 pm

    Holy…cow! Hahahaha. OMFG. I am laughing too damned hard to type. Girlfriend, remind me- strike that- you’ll never have to remind me not to piss you off. I did catch (if noone else did) that you said you are a free woman today!
    Now, stay calm please. I am raising both hands. I don’t go for even that old fav pair anymore (although it’s still in the closet in case I have a moment of temporary insnity), but I do remember when it was a two gal-pal job to get into those jeans. Flat on my back on the bed, both hands pulling that 6″ gap as close as I could while my pal used the pliers on the zipper. We always used a wire coat hanger to tuck those pockets in, Red! I would never unzip to tuck those nasty pockets in! Haha!
    [rq=3962,0,blog][/rq]The Plastic Problem

  5. June 11, 2009 at 7:14 pm

    Shelly, brilliant description. Perfectly laughable.

  6. June 11, 2009 at 10:25 pm

    I plan on not looking at myself in the mirror for awhile until I hike about a zillion miles this summer!
    [rq=4363,0,blog][/rq]Shiprock

  7. annmarie
    June 11, 2009 at 11:10 pm

    Shelly – you are toooo funny – thanks for the laugh!

  8. June 14, 2009 at 3:05 pm

    Can I hear an Amen, Sistah?! Amen and a hallelujah! Yes Ma’am I am a proud member of the Society of the Grappling Pants. My “children” are 26 and 21 now and I *still* haven’t lost the “baby fat” either. In fact, I’m pretty sure its morphed into the middle age “I’m here to stay and I ain’t going anywhere I don’t care *how* many sit ups you do” fat. Ugh. I am perimenopausal but still. I am 50 now but about a year ago I started developing this spare tire where my waist used to be. WTF?? Lordy that is so not fair. *sigh*.

    Thanks for the laugh today. I found your blog through the link on my BlogHer ad. πŸ™‚
    .-= Midlife Mama´s last blog ..Never blog after midnight . . . =-.

  9. December 13, 2009 at 10:39 pm

    Okay…so I’m a member of the ‘sisterhood’ but I never had any children so I don’t even have “that” going for me. (deep sigh)
    Thankfully, I went to a talk about hormones by a holistic sort of pharmacist a month ago and “HE” says the perimenopausal weight gain is NOT our fault. Ggggrin! Naturally, every woman in the audience fell in love with him on the spot. That extra tire around the middle is due to fluctuating hormones. The extra cookies, that bottle of win and lack of exercise mean NOthing. Doncha just “love that guy”?
    .-= Fairykate´s last blog ..Three Mobile Strategy Tips for Online Marketing and Search Visibility =-.

    • December 15, 2009 at 5:09 pm

      I love the guy, Fairykate, but I’m afraid I admit reality: bacon, chocolate, ice cream….it isn’t hormonal for me. I am my own downfall! πŸ˜†

  10. January 13, 2010 at 11:23 pm

    Hilarious…yes, you should write more. Get your book started girl!
    .-= Debi´s last blog ..AlphaMares: ?.•**.•**NITE!.•**.•**? =-.

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