Give Me Spanx or Give Me Death.
There are certain clothes I own that look better on me with Spanx. Plain and simple. I know that when I wear my Lee Jeans from BlogHer I need to bust out the flab reducer. (Don’t worry, I’m not being compensated to say this. They’re just the smallest pair I own.)
Let’s face it. Everything looks better with Spanx. Especially after kids.
I didn’t ever completely bounce back after being pregnant. My stomach mainly – which bothers me. I lost weight this summer, but it’s still there.
There is no quarter bouncing off it.So when I found Spanx before going to see Sam while he trained in Georgia this spring, I was shocked at how they neatly tucked everything into wear it used to be – and allowed me to get in pants that fit nicely in the legs but not nicely in the waist.
In other words? Spanx>Muffin top.
For the last 6ish months, I’ve worn them on and off. The odd thing is, as great as I feel wearing them, as much as I like the way I look, I always feel guilty. Like I’m cheating. Because I should be able to slip into my jeans without any aid, right? No bending. No stretching. No spraying down the jeans with the kitchen sink hose and then throwing them into the dryer until they’re slightly damp and then putting them on.
Certainly no Spanx.
Today I put them on and slid into my jeans, looking in the mirror. Frustrated. A tad embarrassed. I was still using them – 2 years after giving birth. Would I ever not need them? I asked myself this, again. Why was I still wearing them?
But then a thought popped in my head. “Why not?”
“Because,” I argued, “I shouldn’t be. Lots of women give birth and never need to use Spanx. I should be one of them.”
“You’re not them.”
“Then I should be ok with the flabby me.”
But I’m not.
This stayed with me today as I thought about how much I have struggled with my weight over the years. How I’ve never been thin enough. Even thin. How right now, at a size 6 that I would have killed to be a year ago, I feel like I don’t deserve it or it’s not “really” how I look so I tell myself it’s an illusion. Created by Spanx.
But what if it is? What if I wear Spanx every day for the rest of my life? What if I wear them at my funeral and people say, “Good grief, she’s 97 and you could bounce a quarter off that thing.” Would that be terrible to trick them?
Is that the end of the world? I wear makeup. I use product in my hair. I know tips to make things look bigger and smaller – how is wearing Spanx some kind of a sin? Why do I feel guilty when I pull them on?
I don’t know. But what I do know is this – I like them. I don’t care who knows I wear them. I look and feel better when they’re on. And this weekend? I’m treating myself to a new pair. I’d rather fake a flat stomach than walk around feeling like crap about a muffin top.
If that’s what it takes to make me feel a little better and look better in my clothes – then people? I’ll be gettin’ my Spanx on till the day I die.
And probably after that as well. Might as well look good in the box.