Tacos and Spanx

If you are a woman over the age of 30, it’s a pretty safe bet that you’ve worn Spanx at one point in your life.  Maybe you are like me and you’ve worn them more than twice in your life.  Spanx can flatten your tummy, smooth out those lady hips, and streamline your silhouette.  Sounds like a magical pair of underwear doesn’t it?!   They are for the most part.

I mean if you’ve ever put a pair on you might find yourself ready to fall over with sweat.  Pretty sure that you are going to pop a blood vessel somewhere.  Or my favorite… your spouse walks in while you are thigh deep in trying to get those tummy shapers up.  Trust me, ladies… there is absolutely nothing graceful about that!  Once you get the defying gravity thing pulled up, everything sucked in, you feel like you accomplished a summit, no joke.  I always think my confidence boosts several hundred notches, but it could be the lack of oxygen circulating.

Next, you are ready to conquer the day.  You stroll right into the office, “Hey, Karen!”  Hoping that someone notices your strickenly awesome sucked in silhouette you head on over to the coffee station, chatting it up.  Then you stroll to say hi to a few more colleagues.  By this time you are starting to be aware that you haven’t sat down because you are afraid your legs might go to sleep.  Just me?  Perhaps your kidney found a new place to take up space.  I know my organs are likely happy to have some structure back in their life post hysterectomy.

You’ve been downing your water intake for the day, ensuring that you stay on your diet so that at some point you can ditch this shaper and just breathe again one day.  Then, 11:00 am hits and if you are like me, then you are wondering how in the world you are going to get this shaper down just to go tinkle and then, gasp, get it back up without a bed to lay down on to wiggle it up.  This is the time where I am vastly thankful there are no security cameras or anyone listening out the door while I vertically wiggle the shaper back into starting day position.  Rinse and repeat a few times throughout the workday, I am convinced this is my daily workout or at least it should totally be a sport.

Friday nights we usually always go out for dinner.  I usually get outvoted which never really bothers me.  I was still looking great in my shaper and outfit from work so I didn’t change.  I mostly eat salads these days anyway.  In the car, they sprung it on me.  “Let’s go eat tacos,” they shouted.  Music to my ears.  Except for one thing… the shaper.  There was no turning back.

We sat down at what I am convinced is our usual table.  Chips, salsa, queso, margaritas, oh my.  I know those Spanx were saying, holy moly lady what the hell are you doing!  Then we order, of course, I am here for the tacos… three tacos, rice, and then extra rice, please.  Next basket of chips and I silently whisper to my stomach, “hold on for the ride of your life.”  At this point, I am pretty convinced that I need to use the restroom.  Two scenarios play out in my head.  First up, if I do go I might not ever get that shaper up in which case I might have to tuck them into my purse.  Second up, I would get relief like actually be able to breathe and get some air.  The first scenario scared my thoughts enough to not attempt it, I mean I’m not 5 years old, I can hold it.

Two tacos in, I am pretty sure this is where the Spanx got their workout in.  I’ve never left a taco behind and I wasn’t about to that night either.  I started feeling weird bulges but for the most part, those Spanx were holding that taco, chips and salsa, and margs stomach in!  I couldn’t make any quick moves but for the most part, I was surviving and thriving on tacos.

We got up to head home.  I am miserable at this point.  Longest 10-minute car ride of my life.  I am starting to tug at the Spanx, convinced that any tug away from my body can provide at least 10 seconds of relief.  Each bump on the road is like jello safely secured in Tupperware.  At home, I run upstairs to our master bathroom because clearly peeling this thing off of my taco filled body is no job for the downstairs bathroom.  Safely locked behind two doors I begin to peel that thing off of me.  I am struggling to shimmy it down while my post hysterectomy body sighs in relief inch by inch and then I am reminded that I still need to tinkle.  It was as if my body remembered what it was like to be the mother of two kids and have some of my organs taken from my body.  I hobbled my way over and I am proud to say, no accidents ensued!

I grabbed a pair of normal underwear, you know the kind that normal people eat tacos in, along with leggings for the rest of the night.  I can honestly say, I haven’t worn a shaper to Friday night dinner since.  Tacos and Spanx are not something you should ever attempt ladies!  They do not mix.  I repeat they do not mix.

Raise your cabernet glasses this evening to Tacos and Spanx and the wisdom to not wear one while eating the other!

 

 

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