“Enough is enough! I have had it with these mf-ing Spanx on this mf-ing plane!”
I was headed back from Type-A Parent Conference in Atlanta. I shared a cab, dinner and nice long chat with blogger and entrepreneur Cecily, with whom I’m blessed to call my friend. Being girls, we were talking about outfits, what we wear when we fly to be comfortable, what we wear to various conferences, all that girly girl stuff.
Then I admitted something to her. On the flight to Atlanta I wore a maxi dress, nothing scandalous or too fancy, but I also wore Spanx. Spanx on a plane.
“You wore what?!”
“Spanx. I wear them all the time. Sometimes, if I really want to fit in a cute dress, I’ll double up and wear two pair.”
“Wait, so go back, you wore Spanx. On a plane?!”
If you’re a woman, you will fall into one of three categories. Those who wear Spanx occasionally, those who don’t at all, and those, like me, who would wear them 24/7 if they could.
I’ll admit, Spanx are not the most comfortable things in the world, but they slim and trim and suck and lift all the areas that I’m self conscious about. When I wear them I stand a little taller, am a little more confident. Yes, it may be silly, shallow even, but I want people to look at me and not think I’m just another 35 year-old woman who has had three kids and is too busy/lazy/whatever to work out.
Spanx are seriously the best invention since TiVo. Hell, since the invention of the internet even.
Now you may be thinking, “How much did Spanx pay her to write this?” Nothing. I’m afraid to admit how much I’ve spent myself on these glorious intimate items. Not just name brand Spanx, but their Target line Assests, and in a pinch, whatever generic one Kohl’s has on sale when I am headed out of town and need just one more pair.
I have the full body Spanx, the boy shorts, the midthigh, the slip, the ones that have so much boning and elastic in it you would think it’s a medieval torture device. I have them in every color, size and more than a few duplicates. I unpacked my bag from this conference and realized I brought more pairs of Spanx with me than outfits I had to wear them with. It’s becoming a sickness.
Now back to my conversation with my friend…
“You wore Spanx. On. A. Plane?!”
Yes, I wore mf-ing spanx on an mf-ing plane. I was uncomfortable as hell sitting there, in my cramped window seat, trying to act like there wasn’t 80 layers of spandex choking my insides. I wanted to look good headed to a professional conference. I wanted to look like a businesswomen, a CEO, a super model. Okay, so really I just didn’t want to look like I had one too many burritos at Chipotle for lunch.
Spanx on a plane. Dear Lord, what was I thinking?! It’s a 3 hour flight. I’m in the window seat. I have no way of casually getting up to pretend to get luggage out of the overhead bin just to be able to breathe for a few minutes. I shifted in my seat the entire time. Counting down the time. Doing the math, seeing how many people would be getting off the plane before me before I could run to the airport bathroom and rid my midsection of this corset/girdle.
I made eye contact with the stewardess, trying to plead my case with her through various eye twitches to see if she could get the pilots to fly a little faster.
It didn’t work. Instead, she brought me snacks, thinking I was hungry. Being polite, I ate them, cringing at the thought of my stomach expanding one more millimeter. What might happen? Will the Spanx finally give way and explode right there on the plane? Will the elastic and spandex take out the poor man next to me once it can’t hold me in any longer? HOW LONG IS THIS FLIGHT?!
We land. I leave the plane, glaring at the stewardess who dared to turn me into a ticking Spanx time-bomb as I walk by.
I get to the bathroom and realize that I still have a cab ride to the hotel to endure. It’s fight or flight mode. To take them off or not to take them off. That should have been Hamlet’s question.
I don’t. I suffer. The cab driver is courteous, pretends not to notice my face contorting in odd ways while I try to hold my breath the entire drive.
I get to the hotel, finally. Get to the room and the heavens and angels sing as those Spanx went flying onto the floor in the privacy of my hotel room. I can breathe again!
Moments later a friend texts me. “Want to meet up for dinner and drinks?”
“Sure! I’ll be there in a sec!”
After what is the longest twenty minutes of my life, I finally have sucked and tucked and wriggled around like a spazzed out hyena and the Spanx are back on. Why? Because I’m going out in public again of course! And I love the way I look in them.
Fast forward 5 days…
Back to the airport after the conference and with the friend I’m confessing this love of Spanx to. We come to the agreement that there needs to be a movie about this. I want Queen Latifah to star as me as I’m sure she’s the only female comedian/actress who could convey my message, make the same contorted faces as I had, and certainly the only one I can see quoting the following…
Paul: “Why exactly are there Spanx on this plane?”
Female Neville/Emily: “Enough is enough! I have had it with these mf-ing Spanx on this mf-ing plane!”
disclosure: No Spanx were harmed on this flight. Neither was the stewardess or the poor man sitting beside me. Spanx did not sponsor this post, in fact they are now probably putting together a legal team to tell me to take it down. Dear Spanx, I can’t quit you!