For the longest time I’ve been seeing these ads on Facebook for these glorified spanx. You just pull them up and they flatten out all the flab you carry on your stomach. For reals. The commercial shows these women pulling up these high wasted spanx and all the fat just flattens out instantaneously and they can wear that dress or Christmas sweater they only dreamed of wearing before. Move over Anne Sullivan, this is the real miracle worker.
I have to admit I’ve admired the work of these high wasted spanx. I’ve gained a lot of unexplained weight over the last few years and I feel pretty shitty about it. And I would love to slide into just about anything right now and not have to deal with my 7-8 month pregnant food baby mushing up on top. Talk about muffin top. Mine is Costco sized.
But then I think, this product goes all the way up to ones boobs. That’s right. So not only are your boobs held captive, now your entire torso is too. I thought we had left the 1800’s long behind.
I picture myself slinking into a New Year’s Eve party in a hot little number. Everything has been smoothed to perfection, just like a cube of butter when you first unwrap it. Then, at some point during the night, my lower half goes completely numb (from all the smushing…I mean, it’s not just fat in there. There’s important organs in there as well!) I buckle to the ground and have to roll myself out of the party, taking partygoers and tables with me as I go like some kind of rogue bowling ball. It’s not a pretty picture.
Or worse, I don’t go numb. And I meet some handsome, well off, respectful man. Who wants to respectfully take me back to his place. At which time I slide down these high wasted spanx only to burst forth like Pillsbury dough can, all that fat that’s been held back so forcefully being set free, knocking both him and his full glass of sparkling wine to the floor. Can you imagine? How do you explain that one?
I have nothing against women who purchase or wear these high wasted spanx product. Truly I don’t. You should absolutely do things that make you feel pretty or good about yourself! I just realized that for myself it would be a band aid, a very large stretchy band aid, over a problem that goes deeper than weight gain. I need to find a way to embrace myself.
It’s not easy. I have a very long nose. My stomach and thighs have completely given up trying to look nice. I don’t get tan, I get freckles. So many freckles. I don’t find cool life hacks or recipes on Pinterest. I’m learning to be ok with these things. Very, very, painfully slowly. But I am trying.
So here’s some truth bombs. I encourage you to drop some as well. It’s so freeing to be yourself.
I tell more dad jokes than an actual dad.
I used to eat fish stick sandwiches on white bread with mayo. And loved it.
I fall in love way too fast.
I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve. I wear it in front of my shoes, where everyone can step on it. Then I say “sorry” in my best Canadian accent, when someone steps on it. I’m working on my self-esteem.
One of my greatest thrills in life is exploring abandoned buildings.
I cry every time I watch Lemony Snicket’s a Series of Unfortunate Events.
Every time I watch Anne of Green Gables or Little Women I’m inspired to write about my childhood.
I’m attracted to younger men.
I want to marry Gilbert Blythe.
As a kid I lived in the country surrounded by orchards and I used to go out and pee in the orchards on occasion, just because I could.
I have very specific songs I listen to when I need to cry.
I cry a lot.
If I could get paid a living wage to just go around loving people, in hospitals and nursing homes and homeless camps I would do it in an instant.
I like cheap whiskey.
I used to blush every time I talked to a guy, whether I liked him or not.
I have fallen up the stairs at work multiple times.
My best friend growing up used to make me laugh so hard I would occasionally pee my pants.
I don’t know how I feel about the whole story of Jesus’ birth anymore, but I still think Christmas carols are some of the most beautiful songs.
I still have letters people wrote me in high school (I call it emotional hoarding).
The first guy I kissed after my divorce was this guy in a band who had been checking me out all night. We made out so hard he knocked my earring off. At which point I excused myself and did the walk of shame to find my friend.
The next guy I kissed was on New Year’s Eve at Daphne’s bar while Frank Sinatra played. It was one of my life’s most romantic moments. I promptly forgot his name.
We all have dirt, and scars, and weird hairs growing on our face, or belly fat, or kankles. We all have skeletons in our closets (hopefully not real ones.) Don’t be afraid to be yourself. Don’t hide your true self under some tight-fitting nylon (literally or figuratively). You are beautiful as you are. You are funny and unique and brave and strong and intelligent. You are skilled and talented and useful. You are enough! Learn to embrace all that you are.
I’ll leave you with this song. I love it so much. I hope you’ll check it out. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LX3lvwks7NU
You are enough!