Not Enough Duct Tape

There will be days when I'm feeling particularly deep and spiritual and will want to share it. This will not be one of them.

I bought the duct tape for a secret project I was going to tackle while my husband was out of town last week, but I never got around to it. This is actually a very good thing.

First, a little background. I have a one track mind. By this I mean that when I get an idea, I can't think about anything else. The idea is the fox and I'm the bloodhound. That's background fact #1. Background fact #2 is that lately, and by lately I mean starting in 1996, I've become obsessed with my weight. I lost almost 30 lbs last summer. During Christmas, I gained 10 of them back. By March I'd lost them again. Now here we are in June and those pesky 10 have picked up 2 more. I have never gotten the hang of eating properly. I like to say that it's because until age 26, I didn't have to. I don't think God plays fair. He lets you eat fast food for the first half of your life without consequence, and then suddenly you land a man and that cute little size 4 red plaid dress you were wearing the first time your husband noticed you won't go past your hips. What's that about? And don't get me started on gravity. But I digress. That's another day.

Another background fact is that I'm an instant gratification kinda gal. I started cutting my own hair years ago when I couldn't get in to see my fabulous Las Colinas stylist on the same day my bangs went rogue. I have no patience.

Which brings us to last week. I'd stood in front of the mirror a thousand times too many and imagined what it would look like if I could take a knife and whack off the parts I didn't like. Enough was enough. If liposuction isn't in my future, then there has to be a Plan B. And it has to happen now. So off to the hardware store I went.

I heard the rattle of the bag from the other room. "Mom, what are you gonna do with this?" I couldn't tell them the truth, so it was time to make that decision. You know the one: do I lie to my children or tell them the truth and reveal that their mother is a crazy bloodhound? I went for the former. Mother of the Year would have to wait.

By the time I had gotten around to putting my plan into action, it was Sunday morning and my husband was home. But he was still asleep, so I thought I was good. I'm always the first one up on Sundays. I got my stool and put it in front of the bathroom mirror, got my scissors and my new shiny roll of duct tape, and off I went. I started at the afore-mentioned hip area. Three times around should do it. I started to put on my skirt when I heard him. You see, I hadn't realized how much noise I was making. Not only is duct tape loud, but it makes an unmistakable sound. Especially to the ears of a handy man like mine. "What are you doing?" I ignored it. I was finished anyway. He'll go back to sleep. I got my skirt on. From the front, perfection. I had done it. I had lobbed off my upper thighs without a knife. I stepped off the stool and got my shoes. I went out into the bedroom and he looked up.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing. I'm leaving. See you soon." I whispered.

At this point, for reasons unknown except that God actually does love me, I casually ran my hands across the back of my skirt.  I can't really describe what I felt except to say it was some sort of new development. Like a growth. A big roll where there had never, ever been one before. I went back into the bathroom and got back on the stool.  I turned  to check the rear view when I saw it. There was this....shelf. I hadn't realized it, but all that stuff I was binding had to go somewhere, and it went up, in a terribly unattractive place. My rear. Not a problem. I dropped my skirt (which fell off effortlessly, what with me having just lost 3 inches and all) and grabbed the tape again. I started at the problem area and went around a few times when I heard it again. "What are you doing?" I checked the clock and kept going. Sound check was fast approaching and I did not have time to answer these ridiculous questions at 7:40 in the morning. Can't a woman get ready for church without interruptions? I put my skirt back on. This time I didn't have to turn around. The shelf had moved to my waist. And only on one side. I looked like a hunchback who couldn't even get that right. I inched my way around on the stool to check the back to see what was going on. This was not good. While the mid-rear shelf was gone, other things had gone south. I grabbed the tape and started again. This was getting complicated. The lower I had to go, the harder it was going to be to walk. I don't have time for this! Glancing at the clock again I was in full panic mode. I was wrapping faster than an elf on Christmas Eve, tossing the tape from one hand to the other. I'd developed quite a rhythm. After more than a few times around at this super pace, I had the lower problem solved. Awesome. I'll have to take really small steps but I can do this. I'll just make sure no one's behind me when we're walking up the steps to get on stage. No big deal. I continued upward to address the issue on the side. 'I wonder if it will hurt to take this off? Not now, Tamara. Beauty is pain. And at least you're not working up a sweat putting on your Spanx.' This was a wonderful thought.  I wasn't going to need another shower after putting on an undergarment. Fueled by this enthusiasm I went faster. His voice was getting louder now but I couldn't be bothered with explanations. I kept going. And going. My entire mid and lower sections were bound.  Good thing my shirt was black. But what was up with my knees? All that stuff had been smushed down to my legs! But my skirt was long enough. I just won't be able to cross my legs. I can still make this work. OK time to assess. Let's see what we've got. I tossed the roll on the counter and went for the skirt. That's when I realized the flaw in my plan. I had managed to bind all my unwanted parts quite successfully, but I hadn't factored in actually being able to get down from the stool. Or breathing. I couldn't do either. Dang it, if I could just get the skirt on - it will hang so cute, I just know it! (Remember the one track mind thing?) But there was no way. I was literally stuck, 12 inches off the ground, in front of my mirror, looking at this ridiculous image of myself covered in grey. And then it happened. "TAMARA! What are you DOING?!" He wasn't going to be ignored anymore. And the terrible cursed fact was, I needed him.

As I was calling for him I started to try to get it off. This is when I discovered that duct tape is not only loud, but terribly sticky. In fact, terribly doesn't cut it. And neither do scissors when it's attached to your underwear.

"HELP!" I yelled. "I can't get out!" He came through the bathroom door. He didn't stop to ask. He didn't even look surprised. Because he wasn't. He had known all along what I was doing. The man lived with me. It didn't take a genius.

He sat down on the edge of the bathtub and started to cut me out of my duct tape tomb. I was clawing at the front. "Strings??!! It's -- there's all these -- it turns into strings?? I can't -- it didn't work!!" He was just nodding and smiling. "I know babe. I know."

Miraculously and sweetly, he freed me. He even spared the Victoria's Secret underwear from a single clip. And me & my hips made it to sound check on time.

I noticed a little piece of tape on the stage that morning and had to chuckle. OK, I didn't chuckle. I threw up in my mouth a little, and then I tried not to cry.

But today, with about 96 hours between me and my statue, I think I've actually learned something. I know it won't work. I no longer have to be obsessed and preoccupied. There is no instant gratification when it comes to hippage. Starving myself last summer did absolutely no good because I couldn't keep it up. Having 28 less pounds of me was wonderful while it lasted, but the obsessive way I got there was not maintainable. And when I was finished, there was still a McDonald's on every corner and a Snickers at every Target checkout. I still say God doesn't play fair, but that belief hasn't gotten me very far in this particular area. So now I can move on to reasonable things like eating salad for dinner and spending more quality time with Eva The Elliptical and Tony the P90X man. Go figure.