As I write this, I am flying with a sleeping baby in my arms. Surprisingly, she has done really well. I actually had a small heart attack as we took off because I hate flying and am convinced I will die.
Yesterday I went shopping for a few extras before we left. In Kohls, I start looking at bras. Because these suckers (pun not intended) need some support.
All of a sudden, I stumble upon what looks like a wetsuit. Skin tight tank top that says something about “slimming”. As I stare at it, I begin to realize this is a Spanx. One of those things I used to mock and swear only old saggy people wore.
Obviously this attitude was pre-baby.
The picture shows a happy, thin woman dancing. And somehow, as much as I’m thinking how wrong this is that woman are forced to feel like they must wear these, I am intrigued. I walk away, and then really start thinking it over.
My stomach is the thing I dislike the most on myself. So in wearing this – it would help. I might feel, well, comfortable in shirts and dresses. I might be a little less porky.
I decide to buy one. Nude coloring so no one knows.
I crumple it into a ball and head for the checkout.
This morning at 3am, I put it on under my shirt. Figuring if it didn’t work, no harm done. Maybe it was just a joke. And then? I looked in the mirror.
I feel like a new person. I’m wearing it right now, and it’s comfy and totally invisible. I can’t tell you how much I love this.
So as the turbulence bounces us up and down, I know that should the plane pull a “Lost” on me and break in half (I’m on the tail end so kiss me goodbye) I will look great going down. Someone will find me in the water and think, “This chick looks fantastic.”
Also – if they happen to pull me out, please note I would like to wear Spanx under my dress in the coffin.