Yaye Takes Oprah's Name in Vain
I do not belong to the Church of Oprah.
I don't let Oprah tell me what to read. Waaaaay too much touchy-feely, inspirational, overcoming obstacles, nobility of the human spirit stuff for me. Honestly, I gain more insight from a really well written scene in a movie like "Living Out Loud" or "Harold and Maude" than I do from all the "How I Stopped Being a Pathetic Loser by Following These Ten Easy Steps" or "Facing My Pain" books I've ever read.
When Oprah talks about her experiences with diet and exercise (alongside a rotating panel of experts), I pay attention, but I also increase my sodium intake with a pinch of salt; after all, she has done it with a coterie of personal shoppers, personal chefs, personal trainers, etc. And really, there is very little mystery to the process: eat less crap, exercise more.
But when Oprah revealed what kind of support garments she sports beneath her snug designer wardrobe, effecting smooth exteriors without losing curvature, I was all hers. I knelt, I sang praises, I burned incense. I began to visit the SPANX website and read the success story of the lady inventor who created a whole new kind of bra, one made from the stuff of pantyhoses and tights, offering comfort, support, and fewer bulges and visible panty/bra lines. I began to dream of the day that I too could be like Oprah and own sleek, wireless SPANX panties and bras.
This day arrived yesterday, friends.
A flat Federal Express envelope ripped open. Colorfully illustrated pantyhose-like packaging torn asunder. Operating instructions (I'm not kidding) memorized. I withdrew the tiny bundle of stretchy black fabric and, following directions, stepped into my SPANX bra.
No clasp, no hooks, no adjustable bits on the shoulders, no underwire.
Guess what? No support!
It's just a stretchy little tube with straps. Okay, there is some cup shape-age (see above), which offers little more than a big unsightly seam that cuts horizontally across each bosom. I can achieve better effect than this by simply removing the underwire in my existing collection of old bras. Voila! I'd still have no support, but I'd also have no stupid boob seams either!
What a disappointment.
How could Oprah do this to me? I counted on an abundant woman to share her smoothing support secrets, but alas...I've been had.
I raise my fist to Harpo Heaven and cry, "OPRAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!"
posted by Yaye & Tallulah at 5:29 PM
8 Comments:
You know there was a time when I loved Oprah, I even subscribed to her magazine for a time many years ago. I canceled my subscription when her list of "favorite" things included a pair of $300 pajamas. Considering I was finding it quite difficult at the time to buy my boy shoes, I became a cynical bitter woman with deep issues against the rich. I think what we really need to remember and what we know deep down inside is that Oprah is a business woman, who knows how much $$$ SPANX paid to be able to be on the show (like brand recognition, give aways, promotional gift baskets)... I also wonder if Ms. Oprah Divine Priestess of Self Illumination, gets her Spanx specially made just for her. Surely that is more likely the case. The rest of us little people must settle for the mass produced crap that gives no support.
Yaye, the best bra I have ever worn and me boobs have grown by leaps and bounds over the years is by a company called Wacoal Bra. They are expensive, BUT, a year later they still hold em up beautifully.
I do need to purchase a few more, just because it's been a year and there's nothing better than a brand new well fitting bra - kind of like new socks only better.
I am sorry, but I have to ask:
Is that company pronounced "spanks?"
Oh yeah! I remember the $300 pajama debacle!!
I will check out Wacoal -- never heard of them! It's that or Frederick's of Hollywood. A lady of Dolly Parton-esque proportions at work swears that they offer fit, support and prettiness. If FOH can keep her gazoombas perky, there's hope for me yet!
Monsieur Manssiere - it IS pronounced "spanks."
Um...yep.
Noted.
Women are an odd species.
Oh and by the way Lyfee, I am quite agog at your Branson experience. Wow, who knew, though I do think when I go to town, I will try to take pics of the billboards here, you may just appreciate them.
What on earth possessed you and Joanne to go to Branson? Was it the stage show turned up to 12?
Brilliant I do say good man.
I guess I should have mentioned somewhere it was for Joanne's mother's 75th birthday party. :)
I hope I didn't come across to snide in my posts - I did try to enjoy the place on its terms, and I think I now understand the tradition of big entertainment families that spawned the Osmonds.
But for a small town religious culture that supposedly disdains the heathen excesses of New York and Hollywood, there sure were a lot of sequins and dance numbers....
I was also taken aback by the lack of hospitality in a city renown as a tourist destination. I don't know if we stuck out as Kalifornians, but everyone we dealt with seemed just to be punching the clock and barely tolerating all the customers. (But not the dancers - they were faaaabulous!)
Anyway, when we were renting our car, and since Joanne kept her name, the lady at the counter demanded to see a marriage license to prove that we were really married to list us both as drivers. As an added bonus, this entire uncomfortable conversation took place under a stuffed beaver (and other former animals), in the airport. Really.
Oh and please post them pics! I have a few choice billboard photos that I wish turned out better.
Wow, stuffed beavers? I went to an insurance agency + fish and tackle office and there was a stuffed squirrel crouching over the "take one" hard candy bowl. I believe what we have witnessed is true land locked Americana.
It is amazing that good old country hospitality seems to be missing in business establishments in small towns. Just recently one of the cashier ladies at my local supermarket actually cracked a smile during check out it must be because I'm coming up to my 3rd anniversary here normally she just angrily shakes open the bag and stuffs everything in there and then glares at me. I am always amazed at the rude customer service skills with businesses not just in West Virginia but everywhere. Although before I say everyone needs to go to customer service training, I have had some wonderful experiences too.
When Mr. T and I moved here, people were 1. Disgusted that we were Kalifornian 2. Our age difference 3. That we didn't listen to modern country music. I still can't tell the difference between Shania Twain, Martina McBride and Brad Paisley.
Good for you two for takin' mom to Branson, that was a very very nice thing to do. Youz makes me get all teary...will little Yayo do that for me one day? Who will be playing Branson then? Perhaps a Maroon 5 extravaganza isn't too far off the mark. What is wrong with music today??????? But maybe Shoji, Dorothy and Christina will still be "kickin' it old school" when I'm ready to go to Branson.
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