This post is for ladies only.  Gentleman, you’ve been warned.

Ahhh, Spanx.  Many a gal has sung her praises.  I’ve tried. I mean “engaged in cardiovascular contortion” tried. But, despite the damage done in pregnancy, I just work with what the good Lord gave me and let it all fall where it may. So, I find myself perplexed that on Christmas Eve, after losing over 30 lbs in 2013, something came over me and I still felt the need to give them Spanx a whirl. I use “whirl” literally. You see, as I started the process by which I hoist the Spanx over my “target area” I damn near landed in the hospital.  With only one leg in the Spanx, I “balanced” there like a drunken sailor on violent surging seas. I was rendered helpless.  I couldn’t stop it.  I “whirled” around, crashed into my jewelry cabinet, launching my faux pearls yonder. I’ve yet to retrieve them. Being mauled by a bear would have been quieter. “Spastic” comes to mind.

After gaining my composure, I attempted the second leg.  Call me an innovator gals, but I think I’ve got something here… If you want a true workout, the kind that draws the sweat from the core of your being, just put on a pair of Spanx. Because, prior to fully securing my second leg in this sling, I achieved a lather to rival an MMA fighter. I lost 2 pounds. I had mascara running down my cheeks. My carefully straightened hair had reached colossal fuzziness. I was wheezing. Baby Jesus, help ME!

Then, I hear from the distant shadows, “Did someone fall!?”  Thank you family! Though your ten minute delay illustrates your grave concern, overlook the bleeding about my shin, all is well.  

Alas, I had completely enclosed my lower body into the Spanx, successfully cordoning off my “target area”. Still panting like a rabid dog, I then did the worst. thing. imaginable.  I went and looked in the mirror.  Apparently this nylon prison had squeezed the sense right out of me. Ignoring the four inch sag at my crotch, I waddled toward my reflection to get a full view.  Why, Cam?  To see the glorious results of compressing myself into a sausage casing!?  To relish in victory?  No. I cried ladies. I cried hard. Sure, I didn’t have panty lines, but I looked like a cross-dressing Tammy Faye Baker… after being mauled by a bear. Lack of panty lines is kind of a lost bonus feature if I look like an overly quenched sailor in drag…at church.

Sufficiently cinched, I shuffled downstairs. Without looking up Curtis said, “You look great sweetie.” You lying son of a…  Off we went to service.  I was perpetually light headed. I sweat. all. evening. I had no feeling in my legs and my gate resembled that of a horse on parade. Clippity clop, joy to the world. The lack of blood to my lower extremities must have shrunk my feet, ‘cause with each step my shoes flew off. Maybe that’s where I lost the 2 pounds.  It was fantastic.

Sing Spanx praises if you wish sisters, but I fail to see the draw. Spanx are dangerous. Spanx are exhausting. Spanx nearly put me in the ER. Can you even imagine that conversation!?  “Oh doctor, pay no mind to the gaping wound on my shin, the more conspicuous matter at hand is this girl don’t have panty lines!! And, watch me dance Doc, NO jiggle!”  Can I get a witness!?