But, no one told me that this needed to be extended to shirts, and specifically shirts with buttons, as well. I found and bought a cute shirt that gaped a tad at the buttons at the bustline. My fashion consultant promised that once I hiked the mountain range back to altitude, the shirt would no longer gap, inspiring a bra shopping trip. She was correct. Unfortunately, she didn't take into consideration the fact that I don't stand around all day long. I go from seat to seat. Usually this is in private so no one else knows what a slug I'm being but occasionally I have to loaf in public. And yesterday was one of those days.
So, wanting to look cute in public, I donned the darling shirt, checked that there was no gapping, and went on my way. As I drove to my book club meeting, I noticed that I had gaps between almost all of the buttons the entire length of the shirt. I wrote it off to the seatbelt pulling it strangely and made a mental note to tug it all back gapless when I arrived. This was all well and good until I sat down with the group. Instant gappage. What the heck kind of rearranging does my body fat do to make this happen? Does it lie in wait to squish out in any direction it spies freedom? One whiff of air and the thought of exposure to said air and it wobbles with delight towards buttons with alacrity? I mean really! How is my sitting torso so different from my standing torso that this happens? Does all the fat slide down to my butt and hips when faced with gravity as I stand? Whatever the reason, I had to endure book club, lunch afterwards, and then my haircut with peekaboo cellulite. At least once my hair was washed at the salon, they mercifully covered me with a cape. That short may be cute but the odds of me wearing it again are about zero. Poop. And here I thought I had a shot at being marginally stylish. Then again, I am a woman who still wears underwear that is almost 20 years old so I was probably deluding myself all along.