First, the last post has all kinds of spelling errors and I apologize, my laptop is acting up and I was using a mini notebook and well, typing isn’t all that easy. While my laptop’s keys do not work (well, a good portion of them) I finally got around to dragging out a spare keyboard so I can actually type without too many errors.
And because I have no shame, a story from a few years ago. . .
The Queen is all about looking smart. Girlfriend is always dressed nicely, accessorized down to the jewelry, shoes and purses. During a golf tournament I was working, we sat chatting with another friend and the topic of Spanx came up. I listened intently as they discussed the finer points up the suck em in pants, nodding and making a mental note that I should get a pair to try. The interesting part about all of this is, when my hose would start to wear and tear, I would cut them off around the thigh area and wear them under skirts. And I had done that since my Ann Taylor days back in the late ’90s.
I hit up Dillards looking for the oh so important, you have to have them Spanx. Unfortunately the sticker shock made me rethink getting them. I would occasionally look at them when at the mall but never did buy them. For my birthday the Queen was ever so nice and spoiled me like she normally does, this time it was in the form of Spanx.
I was down in her office, chatting with her, she gave me my gift and I knew right then and there I had to try them on. Unfortunately I had on tights and realized I would have to take them off, put the Spanx on and then put the tights back on. . .
Having no shame, I stripped down in her office with the door closed and someone standing in front of the section that was glass. I got them to my knees and thought, man, this is going to be great. Those suck em in pants had a different plan though. The Queen had bought what she thought would fit me but as we kept on trying to get them up and over my butt, we realized that they were too small.
The Queen tried to help me from behind, which looked like a bad use of the Heimlich maneuver, we tried me on the floor pulling on them like you might do with really tight jeans, we went with the let’s try to get it all the way up on one leg and then the other and who knows how many other ways.
There was laughter, tears, shaking until we couldn’t contain ourselves; oh and half the women in her department sauntered into her office trying to figure out what in the world was going on. It was a case of the wouldn’t you love to be a fly on the wall? And all this while my dress is almost over my head, tights laying on the floor and the Spanx being wrestled into submission.
Once we all dried our tears and stopped laughing, I calmly put my tights back on, pulled my dress back down and stuffed the ill fitting Spanx back into the package. I finally got the correct size and am now a card carrying member in the suck em in pants group but. . .
That story has followed me for a few years now, normally when I completely forget about the story, the Queen has someone come up to me and ask about the Spanx story. Carrier reps, coworkers and other offices have heard about me and the day it all went wrong.
But I have no shame and was reminded of that story the other week when I saw a friend I hadn’t seen in a couple of years. She was in the Chattanooga office, we squealed with delight when we saw each other and then she threw out the Spanx story for other ladies to hear.
Thank goodness there are no pictures and while I would kill to weigh what I did then, you still would not have wanted to see that mess.
Oh and just for Monday, since I dislike it so. . . I am now down 25 pounds. It took changing medication to finally get the weight to come off consistently but woo hoo! Come on skinny jeans, get ready because I am working my way down to wear you again. Spanx included.