When The Fat Lady Sings

So I'm a bit late in updating on the Misadventure of the Drama Queen. There's a reason for that, too. It's just not a good one. I'm blaming all those Nosey Nellies who requested photograhic evidence. You know who you are...  It's not all that easy to make a spectacle of oneself while juggling a shiny red Kodak, you know. I had to trust others to share photos with me. Unfortunately, there was a bit of a problem.

Some fat lady kept showing up in all the pictures.
What's worse? She was wearing an exact replica of my historical costume.
How rude.

Of course, according to Miss Kathy at The Writer's Reverie, I wasn't wearing historical costume. No... what I was wearing,  according to the experts, is period attire. 

I stand corrected and bear witness to the truth of it.  I was, indeed, wearing a tire.  

Sighing...

Since I didn't have one of those whale bone corset thingies, I headed out to find something to camouflage the aforementioned road wear.

And behold...

A miracle

So I looked over my left shoulder...
And then I looked over my right shoulder...
And then I sort of skulked into the dressing room to try it on...

And do you know what happened?
Not a thing.

Apparently, I not only suffer from growing girth syndrome, I suffer from a lack of belief as well.  

He could perform no miracle that day... 

I personally think they should be charged with false advertising and renamed Pants on Fire. For one thing,  it took way more than 10 seconds to get all that extra firm control fastened around my Michelin.  For another, it didn't work any better than a trusty pair of control top pantyhose. I was looking for something to flatten the tire. There's nothing whatsoever miraculous about transforming it into a steel belted radial one.

And then there was the whole breathing thing. It's kind of hard to speak without it, and this was not historical mime.

Therefore, I opted out of the $44.00 miracle and decided to try the control tops instead.  I was looking for something like this:

google image

I thought it might suck in the area where my cheekbones used to be and reinvent the jaw line.   Unfortunately, no one even pretends to have created control tops like that. We clearly need more math and science in the public schools...

In the end, I just appeared in all my puffed out, faded glory.  It wasn't supposed to be about me anyway. It was about my hometown and the tour they were giving some visiting folks from across the state of Georgia.  So I sucked it up as best I could and did  my part.

 I actually can't remember a thing about it since I tend to suffer from Post Dramatic Stress Amnesia. They say that it went well. In my head, I looked like this:

But in reality...

I'm not exactly sure what dramatic moment is being captured there with the hand on the bosom and the pitiful face... 

So anyway, that's my tale for today, and as usual I tried to share it with some levity. If you've read here long, you probably know that laughter is my default mechanism.

But in truth, it's no laughing matter. In truth, I was horrified at the stranger in the photo. I mean, the tire I knew about, but who is the old woman with the fat face?  I almost wrote my Sunday post about it, in fact.    

Instead, I got off my blogger butt and tried out some new exercise equipment. It didn't cost me a dime either, but that will have to be a post for another day.