You know, I haven’t always been so brilliant and fashion forward conscious. *cough.* I know my regular readers are aware of my passive-aggressive relationship with Spanx, but it wasn’t always so. At one time, they used to be a mythical creation whispered in dressing rooms whilst trying on outfits with my girlfriends. Surely this magical device couldn’t possibly really exist? Then, a few years ago it began. I was giving a presentation for work and wanted to wear a wowzer of a dress because quite honestly, what I had to speak about was as dull as dirt and frankly it’s difficult and embarrassing for me to speak over a room full of snoring men. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m certainly not as bad as my friend Lisa who took me with her to Kohls and proceeded to ask the clerk where the FoJay SwayJay (faux suede) jackets were. Kid you not, floor open up now and suck us both in! Surely everyone has a friend like this? Please don’t let it just be me, because with that comment I had the feeling the snotty clerk was assuming I was of the same ilk and turned three guilty shades of red. But I digress; I was speaking of Cao naked in a room full of men. Oh wait, that’s the horrible dream I have every time I have to speak in public.
I was actually speaking of THE tiny red dress. It used to fit to perfection but somewhere between that last package of Twinkies and the yelly DoooooNot I had for breakfast, I seemed to have fluffed up a little. Doesn’t fluffy sound so much nicer than a gelatinous roll of fat? I raced to the store and wearing dark sunglasses as a disguise, read the box, it said something about “The function of Spanx is to slim, reduce bulges, and create clean lines.” Sold on the product but still embarrassed I grabbed 12 pairs of pantyhose to hide the box, rushed to the clerk and purchased the undergarment, hoping she didn’t notice what was buried between all those panty hose; I mean it felt kind of like cheating. I have to tell you, Spanx are kind of a stealth product in that they come out of the box looking like an innocent pair of unintimidating biker shorts. Anxious enough I stick my feet in and begin to pull them up only to become wedged about mid-thigh. Crap. They must be defective. At this point gasping and panting, grunting and groaning I notice I’ve started to sweat profusely from all of the exercise. Thinking this must be the logical reason I can’t get the garment up, I shackled shuffled to the bathroom and put powder on my thighs to help. After, I shackled shuffled back to the bedroom, exhausted, I lie on the bed and wiggle and huff the edge of the spanx on the left side, then wiggle and huff the spanx on my right thigh, slowly (terminally slowly), okay 20 minutes later I had worked the offending knickers up. Deadly combat complete and I won!!! Or so I thought. I mean, yeah, I looked ten pounds lighter, but ‘ell by that time my face looked about 20 years older from the trauma of it all. Moving on I put on the dress, stunning gorgeous silky perfection, fluffed my hair, preened with my makeup, red Christian Louboutin’s and car keys in hand headed towards the door. I was going to wow them, this girl is on fire. Then I realized that urgency I was feeling actually meant I needed to go to the loo.
The take from? Hey I can’t make this stuff up; you should try being me for a day, it’s tough. My first run in with Spanx wasn’t exactly a success but I didn’t give up on them and to tell you the truth there is no better motivation to staying thin than a pair of them hanging on your bed post. Just seeing them makes the cookies I was going to eat in bed go right to the trash. Oh yeah the take from. Well, thank goodness for friends like Lisa of course. Because if I didn’t go shopping with her I wouldn’t have that kick arse FoJay SwayJay jacket to cover some problem areas while wearing my black Stella McCartney bodycon knee length dress. Well thats my story and I’m kinda stickin to it.