Not because of bad news. Not because of a fight with my husband.
Because my shapewear had rolled down to my belly button. Again.
I was at my best friend's birthday dinner. Wearing a fitted black dress I loved. And underneath? A $98 "tummy control" bodysuit that had given up on me somewhere between the appetizer and the main course.
I stood in that tiny stall, pulling and tugging and sweating. Trying to yank this thing back into place.
And I thought: why does this keep happening to me?
My name is Jessica. I'm 41. Mom of two. And I've spent more money on
shapewear than I'd ever admit out loud.
Waist trainers. High-waisted briefs. Full-body suits. Colombian fajas that
promised miracles.
Every single one let me down.
Some rolled down the second I sat. Some squeezed my chest flat. Some were so
tight I couldn't breathe after lunch.
And the worst part? I kept blaming my body.
"Maybe I'm between sizes." "Maybe my stomach is just too weird." "Maybe shapewear just isn't for me."
Turns out? It was never my body. It was the shapewear