***PREFACE: If you’re a skinny woman who wears Spanx, you will not understand the majority of this article. Also, if you’re a skinny woman, why on God’s green earth are you wearing Spanx?
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I’ve long been an advocate for wearing Spanx, and I personally own several pairs. I even went so far as to thank Sara Blakely (Spanx creator) for her shape-shifting voodoo magic in my first book, #FeelFreeToLaugh. And honestly, Spanx products are ridiculously effective. In the words of American Housewife’s Katie Mixon, if you wear them right they “turn gut into boob.” I mean, how ingenious is that? Finally, someone found a way to make use of middle-aged moms’ gelatinous midsections.
That said, I’d like to publicly declare to the world that this middle-aged mom and her gelatinous midsection are officially giving up Spanx. No, not just for Lent — for good.
I just can’t do it anymore, ladies. Can. Not. Do. It. I don’t care how well they take me from Mama June to Heidi Klum, I cannot bind my body up in that state-of-the-art, NASA-grade spandex any longer.
I went to put on my nude-colored-unitard Spanx this morning, and my body rebelled. Every part of me resisted. “No more bondage!” screamed every fiber of my being.
Spanx are a prison for our torsos. Squirming and hoisting our way into them is akin to trying to stuff ground sausage back into its casing (spoiler alert: it’s a tight squeeze). As much as Spanx spokespeople might claim otherwise, and in the words of the Queen Bey and her Destiny’s Child sidekicks, I often find myself muttering “I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly” as I attempt to climb into a garment that looks like it was made for my five-year-old. So much stuffing and lifting is required in order to get things properly situated that by the time I’m finally locked and loaded, I’m also usually profusely sweating, which is super attractive. Not.
