Before ever leaving Jersey, I was already feeling pressure to be perfect - I was heading to LA, the city of beautiful women plus I was going to a business meeting at a well-regarded beauty company; so this would mean a building full of beautiful people. I had to look perfect - slim, stylish, sharp and smart (that list being my order of importance).
Considering the time of the meeting and the transcontinental flight, I had to be travel in my meeting attire. I had opted for a sleek royal blue dress with black piping down the sides, around the sleeves, collar and hem. It was form fitting but with my slimming Spanx, the dress would fit fine. However, I didn't want to wear the body shaper on the entire six hour flight. To avoid the restriction and discomfort, I decided to make the trip sans Spanx and instead covered my flawed self under a blanket while on-board.
Once we touched-down in The City of Angels, I had to haul ass to get a cab to make the meeting on time. It was a total piss-off that airport delays took away any buffer time and I found myself running through the terminal to grab the first cab that was available. After sitting for hours cramped on a plane, I was happy that the cab I snagged happened to be a spacious mini-van with it's mid-section stripped of seats to make room for wheelchairs. I was even happier that I now had much more room to prep and primp. And a Jersey girl's primping is more than just powdering her nose.
I propped a mirror on the arm of the seat across from me and began to freshen my makeup, tighten my pony, and apply deodorant. My beauty tools were strewn around the spacious back area of the cab like I was at home in my bedroom.
I whipped my Spanx out of my bag and hesitated for only a minute as I thought maybe I shouldn't put them on in the presence of the driver. But fear of looking lumpy in my dress and not having time to put them on at all when I finally got to the office trumped my worry that the driver would see more of me than was good for either of us.
I kept checking the rear view mirror to keep my eye on the driver. At first, I tried to heave myself into them discreetly but struggled. So fuck it -- I knew I’d never see this guy again. I pulled up my dress to my mid-drift to really yank on the modern-day girdle. I was breathing heavy and sweating. I would see the driver's eyes cut over to meet mine as he checked his mirror periodically - perhaps curious or stunned, amused or maybe (and my sick hope) turned on (come on... I’d like to think I still got it!).
Once we arrived at my destination, I got out of the car like this strange man didn't just see my bush through my white lace panties. He looked me up and down while smiling as he helped me with my bag. I walked away feeling his eyes on my ass and somehow it helped propel my confidence. I was now feeling slim, stylish, sharp, smart and sexy. All things needed for a meeting with the beautiful in a town that had no room for the Pillsbury Dough Girl.