Why I'm Pissed Off At My Spanx

by Alyson Herzig
Originally Published: 

Dear Spanx of mine,

We had an agreement and you aren’t holding up, or in, your side of it. You are my go-to for tightening, shaping, holding, smoothing.

I know I have put on a few pounds, but you have built-in stretch. You should be able to handle an extra couple pieces of chocolate and pizza. It’s not like this should have been unforeseen, right? Your whole purpose is helping those that suck at exercising to suck it in just a little bit more. I bought you in my size, when I was that size, but now I am just on the other end of it. Just a tad over, it’s not like I put on 50 pounds. A mere 10 (fine dammit the freshman 15) should not prove to be a game ender, but it is.

1. Remember that time I put you on for my daughter’s communion? Come on, think back. I had that gorgeous dress, and had gained a few – OK fine, a bunch (hate you Sanibel vacation) of – pounds and needed a little assist. I bought the all-in-one dress Assets option, Spanx’s low-end cousin, because $80 for something no one fucking sees is too rich for my blood. Well, I just saw the pictures. You suck at sucking it in. Yeah, you heard me – you don’t suck at all. I look like I am five months pregnant.

2. Oh, and don’t think I forgot about that shit you pulled on me when I was sitting in church. Remember – you rolled up like a fucking window shade! There I was sitting in the pew, when your Lycra decided to just give up and proceeded to roll up my legs and settle right around my ass. I was left to try, unsuccessfully I might add, to reach up my dress – in church – and pull you down. Pretty sure the people around me thought I was doing something other than adjusting my undergarments. So thanks for that; it brought a whole new dimension to the Alleluia.

3. Then there was the time I wore that black jumpsuit to my kids fundraiser? (Stupid I know – but I looked good.) Remember how I got trapped in the bottom shapewear when I tried to go to the bathroom? Let me paint you the picture – me in the bathroom stall fighting the all-in-one jumpsuit piece. Once I got the shrug off, and the top of my sleek black jumpsuit pulled down, I still had to fight the bottom shapewear that kept my ass and belly in check. It was pulled up to my boobs, and getting it down required a strength I didn’t know I had. And getting it back up once the beast of a belly had been released was no easy trick. Did I mention some lady was imploding in the stall next to me and I couldn’t move fast enough? Yeah, that was awesome.

4. There was that time I got stuck in my shapewear tank top after a very long and exhausting day. I was in my closet wrestling with the damn top that decided to hug the curves of my boobs. Way to be an overachiever. Panic started setting in and scissors were seriously considered. Eventually I was able to pull it off, but not until I’d realized what claustrophobia really is.

5. The final straw was the other night, when I had to ask my husband to please pull my Spanx ¾ sleeve top off me because I was seriously trapped in it and starting to freak the fuck out. That really destroyed the illusion of sexiness I have spent the last 14 years creating. Thanks for that. I mean, he was pretty sure I had none, but that signed, sealed, and delivered it.

So thanks, Spanx/Assets/Yummy Tummie or whatever the hell you want to call yourself. You have caused me embarrassment, panic, and a bathroom hell that I will not forget anytime soon. And if I could just lose 20 pounds I would totally kick your hugging, squeezing, tightening self to the curb.

P.S. Please realize that I know if I went up a size this would resolve itself, but I am NOT investing any more coin in you … after all, I will only be this size for a little bit.

Thanks for sucking at sucking it in.

Love, me.

Related post: Why I Love My Body

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