A Tale of Kristi’s Spanxing ~ Kristi

One of my New Year’s Intentions is to wear dresses more- maybe once a week.  As I get fitter, I am moving into a different section of my closet and there are more dresses.  My high heels don’t hurt my feet as much anymore.  I fit back into the cute tights that help keep me warm during the winter.  Plus, this Momma WANTS to wear dresses more.

Recently, I was contemplating getting dressed in that cute black dress that has hung in the back of my closet for several years.  It chanted, “Wear me!  Wear me!  Wear me!”  The new black heels I bought at an after Christmas sale would look perfect.  Oh, and that cute new grey cheetah scarf my student teacher bought me would be the perfect accessory.  See, the outfit was beckoning me!  I needed to get in this outfit!

But, my stomach sank.  I knew what needed to go underneath this black dress.  I walked with trepidation to my dresser.  I apprehensively opened the top drawer.  And, there it laid–my nemesis–my Effen’ Spanx.  It passively-aggressively snickered at me.  It knew that I needed it.  It knew it was in power.  It knew the series of unfortunate events that would follow.  It knew what it would put me through.  As I picked them up, I knowingly accepted these terms with a sense of dread intermingled with a sense of panic.

(Now, let me just say—Spanx are a gift to women who have developed their “womanly figures.”  As women get older, most of us gain wisdom and curves.  As women become mothers, most of us have the supreme pleasure of living with a post-baby body.  For me, while my heart is walking around outside my body in the form of my gorgeous daughter, my tummy has become a conglomeration of saggin’ skin, stretch marks, and too much good food.  This is all coupled with my wonderful child bearing hips and my extra-large J. Lo booty.  I need some HELP wrangling all this voluptuous goodness into smooth curves that mimic Kim Kardashian.  Bottomline, I need my Effen’ Spanx like a fat kid needs cake [pun intended].)

I pulled it out of the dresser drawer and took a deep breath.  You see, I must prepare myself for the tug-of-war competition that will commence.  It’s me and all my goodness on one side and the strong elastic-like fibers of the Effen’ Spanx on the other.  Ready.  Set. Go!

I put one leg in…

I put the other leg in…

And, I PULLED with all my might.

The stupid Effen’ Spanx only slid up as high as the middle of my thigh.  Inch by inch, I wrestled it up.  It was an epic wrestling match!  When the final bell rang, I was sweating—not a cute “womanly glow” sweat; more like I just finished a “freaking intense workout” sweat.  Lovely!  So, I sat down on my bed with the fan blasting to cool me off.

As I sat there cooling off, I laughed at myself as I felt like Ross from the television show Friends in the episode where he wears the leather pants on a date.  He gets extremely hot and goes to the bathroom to cool off.  He pulls the leather pants down and fans himself with a magazine.  Then, he can’t get them back up.  He calls Joey who suggests he uses lotion and baby powder to help pull them up.  As he is attempting to pull them up, his lotioned hand slips off the pants and hits him in the forehead.  Freaking hilarious stuff! 

I looked down and admired how the Effen’ Spanx were doing a fine job.  My tummy looked smooth.  My hips and booty should have had a “dangerous curves ahead” sign posted on them.

Now, let’s talk about my legs.  You see, I am a fleshy-thighed woman and at the bottom was a bulge of leg flesh.  (It’s like a muffin top, but it is at the bottom of my Effen’ Spanx.  Oh, the mental picture, right?!?)   I tried to convince myself that no one will notice this “oh, so attractive” bulge, but I knew that was a lie.  How could they not?  Then, the “Battle of the Bulge” began and I attempted to stretch the Effen’ Spanx over this “oh, so attractive” bulge.  It resisted as it is in its nature to keep its shape.  Wrestle, wrestle, wrestle!  Sweat, sweat, sweat!

Ok, there!  I was done!  That was as good as it gets.  I put on my dress and look at myself in the full length mirror.  Wow, I look FABULOUS!

I walk out to the kitchen to make my daughter’s lunch.  As I was standing at the counter making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, my Effen’ Spanx top began to slowly roll down my belly.  Great!  At the end of the roll, the top portion of my belly protruded out.  I went back into the bedroom, readied myself for another tussle, and secured them into place again.

Then, all the Effen’ Spanx horror stories began to replay in my head:

Like that one time when I was wearing a skirt to school…  Since the skirt was made of a slippery-type material, the skirt turned sideways.  I couldn’t tell the skirt was sideways because of my Effen’ Spanx.  My students said nothing.  Who knows how long I taught like that!

Or, like that other time when my dress petticoat was tucked into the back of my Effen’ Spanx.  Oh, yes, I walked around my cousin’s wedding like that!  I am SO grateful that it was just my petticoat, and not the dress itself.

(Here is another funny story that Melissa McCarthy told on the Ellen show where she unknowingly walked out of her house with her pants around her ankles exposing her Effen’ Spanx.  She had some male workers outside of her house and she was wondering why they were all looking at her funny.)

I tried to reassure myself that that day would be ok and no Effen’ Spanx horror stories would happen to me that day.  Then, something else happened.  It never fails.  Five minutes after I was dressed and everything was in the right place, I got the urge—the urge to pee!  Sigh, the grappling match commenced– this time in the confined space of the bathroom.

These encounters continued throughout the day.  My Effen’ Spanx did its job keeping all my goodness in place and I did my job of wrestling them into place time and time again.  Overall, I am grateful for their support and for making my momma curves look like CoCo, Ice-T’s wife.

As all women know, beauty is painful!  So, I will choose to combat my Effen’ Spanx in the name fabulousness!  Secretly, I will know all of the hard work it took to look fabulous on those days.  I will allow myself to strut around like a peacock and sing “I Am Sexy and I Know It” in my head.  Until the top of my Effen’ Spanx begins to roll down my belly….

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