Andrea Smith: It's party season, time to shoehorn my spare tire into some awful elastic
HAVING joined their ranks very briefly this week, I think we should all stop and spare a thought this Christmas for the poor, suffering fashionistas among us.
Forget glass ceilings, pay inequality and childcare juggling -- my sympathy is firmly with those who are spending this month shoehorned into a pair of those evil, shapewear pants, while tottering on shoes that wouldn't look out of place on the glam hookers of Hollywood Boulevard.
I am, what they call, an apple shape, which means that all my flab is concentrated around the middle. My legs are thinner than the rest of me, although by anyone else's standards, they're tree trunks.