and no, that is not my ass

My pelvis is out of alignment again. This is a bad thing. I have to wear a special belt in an attempt to keep the bones from moving, at least until I can get enough muscular strength built back up to keep things together on their own. I haven't posted about the belt, mainly because I hate it. I wear it under my clothes, over my underwear. Underwear, I must add, that is not the type of underwear that I'm accustomed to wearing. I know: too much information. I usually prefer the thong variety of unders, but now am being forced to wear unders with more material so that the belt doesn't rub my skin off. Because nothing says sexy like a flesh-colored belt and chaffed skin. Except maybe a flesh-colored belt over granny-ish panties. Okay, so maybe they aren't quite granny panties, but they are much more modest than I prefer. Below you will see a lovely model wearing the fabulous belt:

She has chosen to wear a bodysuit or leotard of some sort. With nylons? She must be crazy. Anyway, Ms. 80s Workout Video pictured above and I are obviously uncomfortable enough with the belt-wearing that we are forced to make bad wardrobe decisions. The manufacturer says that there is "minimal bulk" associated with the belt, but they lie. Who wants to make their midsection look any bigger than it actually is? Not I. Yet I wear the damned belt daily, all day, only to be freed when I am going to sleep. Also, the material that keeps the belt from sliding, they give it a clever name but it is the same stuff that you use to keep rugs from sliding on the floor or to line cupboards. Last time I checked, I don't keep mugs and plates on my ass.
That sound of velcro you hear in the next bathroom stall? It probably isn't any kind of adult diaper, it is probably some poor soul who is unfortunate enough to have been prescribed to wear a belt under her clothing. And that clothing is probably ill fitting as a result of the belt because either a.) their pants are too tight or b.) their pants are falling down because it feels awfully ridiculous to be wearing two belts at the same time. And that person must now piss every time they even think about a beverage because the stupid belt is constricting their bladder.
I will say that the belt has its good points. Up until this weekend it had been doing its job quite well. Apparently, the belt decided to take a siesta and in the meantime my muscles and bones plotted some sort of revolution. The result of their jubilee is me not being able to stand upright, bend, or breathe without wincing. And yet I still have to wear the belt. Oh, the wonders of modern medicine.