Below is a guest post from one of my many old roommates Crystal. She and I met while we worked at OneMethod, she being a writer and I being an account person. Our friendship grew over random emails back and forth to each other, even though she sat directly behind me. We decided she should move in, and in the first week I knew we’d be an amazing fit because I looked over and she was dancing to the sound of her steamer. Match made in crazy heaven.
Crystal is a very talented writer with her very own blog: Major Gal. You should read it. It’s quite inspirational and empowering. She writes about changing of life, romance, friends and most importantly, her cute little puppy Gigi.
THE WRATH OF MY RACK
Hey there! I’m Crystal, a blogger over at http://majorgal.blogspot.com. I’m a friend of Jen’s, her old roomie, and a former colleague. Jen asked me months ago to write a guest post for her awesome blog. This morning something worthy finally happened… I had my “What’s that all about moment?”
Now, let’s not be unrealistic. We’re all growing up (whether we like it or not) and with age comes some less than thrilling realities. Like, having your body change for example. Monday night when I got out of the shower I looked in the mirror and found stretch marks. Me: not impressed. I threw some clothes on and fired a bbm over to my pal Julia. It read, “Just found stretch marks. WTF?!” She replied, “Welcome to the club. We’re getting older.” I shot back with, “I bet Jennifer Aniston doesn’t have stretch marks.” Side note on my favourite Friend – her cover of GQ last year stirred up feelings of insecurity for many women, some even younger than Aniston. I’d like my bf, Ryan to throw his copy out. I don’t need to see it every time I’m at his place. It makes me want to go for a spray tan and work out for 18 consecutive hours in a heated room while wearing saran wrap.
I got over the stretch mark thing, kind of, and ate a healthy lunch the next day. Two women on my team noticed my petite lunch plate and said, “You’re eating healthy today.” I told them about my discovery and they chuckled. They’re both in their early forties so they know all about it. I watched as one had a brownie for dessert. I sipped on my ice water, crunching each cube with determination.
Last night I stayed over at Ryan’s. I woke up in a good mood because I knew I could hit a Starbucks on my way to the office without driving out of my way. I wasn’t exhausted and I was looking forward to watching Jersey Shore tonight. Overall, Thursday was shaping up beautifully. I pulled up my jeans and then took my pink blouse off the hanger. I slid each arm through the sleeves and then grabbed either side of the middle to do up the buttons. One slight problem presented itself…I couldn’t do the buttons up over my boobs. Okay, I’m no Pamela Anderson, but I’m not a Kelly Ripa either. I have a decent rack, and in most cases it fits easily in to whatever I’m wearing. This is no longer the case. I face a new reality with the girls, they’re not getting fastened in to just any old shirt anymore.
Ryan looked up when I moaned, “Uh oh…” A smile spread across his face. “We’ve got a problem. My shirt doesn’t fit over my boobs” I told him. “I know it doesn’t” he said with a mischievous grin. I have no backup clothes at Ryan’s, had to be in a meeting in 50 minutes, stores weren’t open yet and there was not enough time to drive to my place. I needed a plan so I looked through Ryan’s closet and found a greyish lavender Calvin Klein button up shirt. I had to make this work. Ryan watched me struggle to tuck his shirt in and make it work appropriate. “It looks like you’re doing the walk of shame” he said to me.
I arrived a few minutes late for work. One of the same women I spoke to about the stretch marks earlier this week quipped, ‘Boyfriend shirt?” as I walked hurriedly in to the boardroom. “Actually yes, this is Ryan’s shirt. I couldn’t fit in mine this morning.” What’s that all about?