Blogs

Let's face it. Ladies' undergarments were not designed with comfort in mind. Not much has changed since the invention of the corset that was meant to give a woman an 18-inch waist.

But the undergarment I am going to rant about is Spanx or shape wear, like the old fashioned girdle. They tout the motto, "No matter the occasion or season, we've got a shape to keep you looking great from all angles!"

But at what price?

I heard of a case where the mother of the bride was stuck inside a full body Spanx for five hours. If Spanx's motto is, "Spanx is here on your big day," where were they? It slims and lifts, but is it worth it?

Holiday Party

My big moment came to prove the claims made by Spanx. My husband's company was hosting a New Year's Eve party and I needed a little tightening in some places, especially the tummy. At the mall, I purchased a pair of "Trust Your Thinstincts Mid-Thigh Control Panel Shapers" for $58. Size: Large. Slimming level: medium. Unfortunately, I did not try them on in the dressing room before purchase.

Dress ironed, shoes polished, hair coiffed, face painted, it was time to get on the undies. Unwrapping the package, I realized I had made a terrible mistake. Straight out of the envelope, the pair dropped into my palm as small as a mustard seed. Were these for children?

The instructions or "warnings" stated that putting on Spanx was "moderately challenging." An understatement. Don't use after a shower. Use with baby powder. When all else fails, go up a size. Take your time. For additional assistance, call the Spanx hotline. Yeesh.

I stepped into the panties right foot first, trying to pull up to the waistline on the first try. Major mistake. I was knocked to the ground.

Next, I entered the left foot. Starting from my ankle, I rolled a tiny bit upward. A combination of yanking, jumping and holding my breath got the panties past my knees.

At mid-thigh, like a tourniquet, it was constricting and compressing my extremities. As the panties climbed higher, I felt light headed and sweaty. I panicked. Losing circulation fast.

It was time to call in the reinforcements. Or 911.

"Mike, help! I can't get up."

Rushing into the bathroom, he took one look at me on the ground, undies half on, legs askew, and blanched.

"Avert your eyes," I said.

"Grab my arm. I'll try not to look."

I reached for his hand with a clammy palm. I realized as he pulled me upright that he may never look at me in the same light again.

"I'll be waiting downstairs," he said, blasting down the staircase.

Ping! One final yank moved the Spanx into place. But Spanx couldn't contain my fat any longer. It started to roll out the bottom and my knees grew as huge as my butt. Fat bulged above my waistline, yet not high enough to enhance the bust line. What do I do now Spanx? Huh.

I threw on my clothes after molding the fat into the right places and then headed down the steps. Dear God, if this wrap-around dress comes undone, my husband will be lucky to keep his job.

It's Show Time

At dinner, my stomach was compressed so tightly that I could only eat tiny portions of food. And drinking? Forget about that.

After three hours, I was eager to use the restroom. Twisting and turning in the confines of a bathroom stall, I made as much ruckus as a rugby player. I could dislocate a shoulder pulling my Spanx down.

"Are you okay?" asked the lady in the next stall.

"Just a little out of breath. I'll be fine."

After we left the restaurant before midnight, my husband said, "You seem happy. Did you have a good time?"

"Yep, it was fun."

Bottom line, stuffing Spanx into my purse and going commando was the only option. I value breathing and eating over beauty. My advice, save the money and do sit ups.

- Stacey Gustafson

Stacey Gustafson is a freelance writer, humor columnist for Midlife Boulevard, artist, blogger and stay-at-home mother. Her blog, "Are You Kidding Me?" is based on her suburban family and everyday life. Her short stories have appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul and Not Your Mother's Books. Her work appears in Generation Fabulous, ZestNow, Pleasanton Patch, corporate newsletters and even a commencement speech. She lives in California with her husband and two teenagers who provide an endless supply of inspiration. She writes about parenting and daily frustrations like her dislike of laundry, the DMV and being middle-aged. Visit her blog www.staceygustafson.com and Twitter @mepaint.