Tag Archives: white dress

A Bliss Busting Moment

This is for all the large busted women out there. I know you will understand and perhaps may have even experienced the ordeal I went through today.

I have a lovely slim fitting white dress with a zipper that goes from my tailbone to the back of my neck. It has a rounded high collar and the loveliest embroidery of summer flowers you have ever seen. I really love this dress. It however needs two people to get in the thing. Well, I can put it on by myself I think to myself even if I’ve never tried before it being the sort of dress where a helper comes in handy to zip the crapper up.

I decided to wear it out to a meeting I had scheduled. Home alone with no Ladies maid or husband to help get the thing on, I decided I could outsmart the lovely white dress which by the way comes down to just above my ankles and looks just grand with my new pair of stunning stiletto heels.

I showered, did my hair which by the way for once turned out perfect all the while rolling around in my mind how I could get my lovely dress on without help. Satisfied now I had figured the whole thing out, off the hanger it came as I gently lay in on the bed. With panties and my boulder holder in place, I unzipped the lovely white dress and with great care not to mess up my for once great looking hairstyle, I gently slipped the dress over my head.

All seems well and I began zipping up the back as far as my arms could reach. I used my left hand to pull the back of the dress up until I thought I might choke myself to death and began reaching for the zipper. Nothing, it wasn’t there. It was still too far down for my fingers to find it. Maybe if I use my other arm my hand will reach the zipper. Those were my thoughts at the time anyway. Releasing my grip from the back, I took a deep gasp of air and repeated the process. Nothing doing my arms being too short and I began mumbling words like Crapper, you can fill in the blanks on the other words.

Not wanting to accept defeat, I quickly moved to plan B. Plan B consisted of taking the dress off, zipping the back all the way up and slipping it over my head. It would mean a quick redo of my perfect hairstyle but I’m okay with that I thought and proceeded.

It took a great deal of effort but I managed to get the thing over my head pulling with all my strength it made it to half way over my boobs. What happened next is a real Bliss Buster of the highest order.

The lovely white dress with the exquisite embroidered collar was stuck and so was I. You see the dress I was so sure I could outwit had small arm holes. The dress is hanging half way down my boobs and for all my efforts my arms are flinging so high in the air they were flapping up against my ear lobes.

Somehow only God knows the dress had bundled itself up into rolls, bundled under more rolls followed by inside out knots between the dress and it’s lining. I’m no quitter I screamed loud enough to wake the dead things I can’t talk about at the moment and shuffled toward the kitchen.

I hate the dress so much at this point, I want to kill it but how I pondered? Kitchen shears that should do the trick those suckers will cut anything.

I squatted down trying to get one of my ear lobe flapping arms to reach and open the kitchen drawer holding the presently needed kitchen shears. It was a no go. Oh, I got the drawer open but naturally the one thing I needed was in the back of the drawer.

Crappers, double double crappers! I couldn’t get my arms down far enough to raffle through the other kitchen utensils and reach it. My ass can feel the draft from the air conditioner and I am so frustrated with the dress I’m not just going to kill it I’m going to bury it in an unmarked grave.

Screaming at the top of my lungs you fringing dress you you’re not going to leave me this way for some Jehovah Witness to find me and you’re not going to leave me this way for my husband to come home and laugh his rear off at me either.

Martin Luther King’s words began ringing in my ears, “we shall overcome”. Even my dog Braveheart had run for refuge to his pillow in the den to hide until it was over.

It took hours of bending squatting and crossing my legs so as not to pee my panties but I retrieved those kitchen shears. Somewhere during the process the zipper broke opening up the dress so it just hung there stuck to my butt in folds, rolls and knots.

My arms are free, my boobs feel like they’ve just been released from a carpenters clamp and I’m good to go to uncross my legs and high tail it to the bathroom.

Free now of the dress alone in my home in my panties and my boulder holder I begin to drink. Nooooooooo not water. I poured myself a glass of wine and then another until I felt the stress releasing me from my ordeal.

Later that afternoon I’m not sure of the time, I put on a pair of jeans and a loose fitting top. I and that once loved lovely slender fitting white dress with the exquisite lace collar made a visit to the garage where upon I retrieved the shovel and deep in the rear of the backyard where noisy neighbors couldn’t see I began digging a hole.

It must have been a really big hole I don’t recall any of the digging process. My husband’s voice bought me back to reality when he returned home in his big ass truck and said, “what in the hell are you doing woman digging a six foot deep four foot wide, eight feet long hole in the backyard? Have you lost your fringing mind?”

I looked up but never said a word. I gave him one of those looks. Ladies you know the look I’m referring too. Fear crossed his face then I heard him say, “you must be out of wine Dear I’ll go get you a bottle, maybe two or three. How many do you want Dear? Oh, never mind I’ll buy a case for you. Go on with what you’re doing Dear mum’s the word with me. My lips are sealed Dear never saw the hole don’t know who/what might be in it either. Be back later Dear” and off he went down the driveway disappearing out of sight.

He’s back now with the wine and I got to thinking for him to plunk out money for a case of my favorite Merlot maybe I should just keep that hole in the backyard and not bother covering it. Well except for a few shovels to cover the lovely slender fitting white dress with the exquisite lace collar.

Want more go to my web site http://www.arleneswitzerflynn.net.

Do me a favor while you’re there download Buzzard’s Glory my novel available through Amazon.  It has some distressing funny crap also.

Advertisements