Once upon a time I was a gym rat. I’d go, check Thing 1 into the kids’ club, and hit the treadmill with my ipod. I looked like this:

Hawaii 2007

Then Thing 2 was born and she couldn’t go until she was six months old. I could’ve left her with Leif when he was home, but if I was getting out of the house for an hour or two by myself, I certainly wasn’t going to spend the time exercising.

Over the last two years, I’ve gone to the gym here or there, but it’s been sporadic. Add to that my 125 calorie-a-glass wine habit … well, I may have gained three six (ok, fine) nine pounds. Which means that my tighter fitting clothes have pretty much become unwearable.

But. I have this magic dress. It’s black. It’s satin. It’s strapless. It’s corseted and has a cute swingy short skirt. It’s the prettiest dress I own. It might even be the prettiest dress over made. I have never had to purchase my own drink when I’ve been out in my perfect dress. See? I told you it was magic.

The Magic Dress. Oh, and Leif.

I decided to try to squeeze my hiney into the dress for the Big GOProud Party. My friend Ashley Sewell zipped me up. It was tight, but the zipper went up! Breathing is overrated anyway.

I went to the Blogger’s Bash at FreedomWorks to grab some dinner and warm beer (supposed to put that on ice before the party starts, guys), and then caught a ride with a friend to the GOProud party.

As I hoped down from the truck, I felt something pop. Then I felt air enter my chest.

Damn.

The hook popped off, and without that, the zipper wouldn’t stay up. GayPatriot tried to help me, and I believe his exact words were, “Yeah … this zipper isn’t going to stay up.” Thankfully, I had a cute coat, and the dress was snug enough to not fall completely off.

When I get back to San Diego, I’m hitting the gym.