I lit a match, tossed them in the fire pit, and happily watched the flames devour the dreaded apparel. It was rejuvenating. And to think, all it took was one humiliating night at my best friend Katie’s wedding.
It was her second marriage. (Katie had erased the first one from her mind. We all had.) The wedding and reception took place at her Uncle’s farm where she had many found childhood memories of riding horses and country living. What Katie envisioned as an intimate and cozy barn setting, I saw a group of people in formal wear smelling of livestock. But that’s me, I’m a pessimist.
The wedding went off without a hitch, no pun intended.
Then came the rain, and that’s when the temperature and humidity rose higher than Willie Nelson. You would think a light rain would usher in a cool summer evening, but this is Southeast Missouri. That barn turned into a sauna.
My Spanx kicked into high gear, compressing me like a modern day girdle. The fat on my lower abdomen re-distributed up into my chest cavity. It was NOT comfortable. Plus, with the humidity, I could barely breathe. It was sweltering hot and there’s only so much undergarment adjusting a woman can take.
After Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville I pulled Katie off the straw covered dance floor. “You gotta help me take these things off. I can’t take it anymore.”
We left the party and snuck back to an empty horse stall. I held my dress up and Katie attempted to pry the Spanx bodysuit off me. She pinched and rolled them down. I felt like sausage stuffed in casing. It was at my waist Katie began laughing and said she couldn’t get them off. I told her to shut up and tried myself…they weren’t budging.
I panicked. This was a point of no return. There was no way I was rolling them back on, yet I couldn’t walk around the rest of the evening with them bunched up around my waist. Katie told me to hold on, stepped out of the stall, and returned with vintage metal sheep shears that looked like a medieval torture device.
“What are you doing?” I cried.
“Don’t worry. They’ll be off in no time,” Kate said.
It all happened so fast. Katie used the old farm tool to rip and shred the Spanx from behind. She laughed hysterically while I screamed, “Don’t cut me!” Thank God nobody wandered back and witnessed this spectacle. Can you imagine? The bride and her maid of honor in a horse stall, dress pulled up, wrestling with my Spanx. It was humiliating.
Thankfully, the shears worked and I survived the entire ordeal unscathed. Katie promised never to tell a soul and we returned to the party. I was a hot, sweaty mess, emotionally scared, and looked hideous in my dress with my stomach bulge.
I cringe thinking about it.
The following week I vowed never to wear Spanx again. I went on a diet and dropped a few pounds, but I give major credit to Cindy at Soco Shaping. It took a couple treatments and a few months, but YES, MY STOMACH SHRUNK.
I know I sound like all the other success stories, but it’s true. It really works!
I met Katie for dinner last week wearing the dress from her wedding. She was blown away. “You never looked this good in Spanx.”
I smiled. “They looked better up in flames.”