As Staci mentioned in her latest blog post, the third annual Angie’s List Soapbox Derby took place last week.

Both aping and lampooning the Indianapolis 500, my team christened itself “Victorious Secret.” The grill of our vehicle was a pink cardboard brassiere with a matching thong as the spoiler.

That doesn’t adequately explain how I ended up posing on the starting ramp like Tyra Banks and rolling my shirt up over my mid-section to resemble a push-up bra. I crave attention; let’s leave it at that.

The photos came back today and I’m in full damage-control mode. Not for my wrecked reputation, but rather my enormous belly. Honestly, I thought I looked kind of sexy, but the photos don’t flatter.

So, it’s Angie’s List to the rescue. My first task is to look up barbers and hair salons. I’m told that a buzz cut can make you look 20 pounds slimmer. And I’m dialing fitness centers, where I’ll be skipping right to the 100-degree hot yoga class. Even if I can’t repair my reputation, I can at least renovate my look.