If you have seen me recently, you may be wondering if we are expecting a new baby soon. You may be curious if our sixth child is going to be a boy or a girl. Maybe you wanted to ask me but were afraid. Maybe you were one of the unfortunate souls who was actually brave enough to reach out and touch my belly. I look awesome. Big and full and ripe. The shape of a mother is beautiful.
Only, that's not why I am in this way.
I have gained a bunch of weight thanks to some hormone issues. That and I gave up on dieting and my idea of exercise is twirling my feet while I read books. My doctor said I have to do something and I am scared to do anything because I am afraid to fail. It's not like I haven't tried before. Oprah told me I have to get to the bottom of my problem, which I thought she meant that my bottom was the problem. But she means that there is a reason I have let myself get fat. Huh? I guess I am in denial because I can't figure out my reason. Maybe I need therapy. But I need a fat therapist. I need someone who knows what it is like to get stuck in a dining room chair. I can't stand taking advice from skinny people. Which is why I must trust Oprah and get to the bottom of this.
My clothes will not zip. I am sitting here writing at 11:00 in the morning and I am still wearing pajama pants. They are the only pants that fit me today. On Easter, I had to break out my extra large Spanx and I nearly passed out trying to put them on. I got stuck half way in and half way out.
There I was rolling on the floor trying to decide if it would be easier to keep trying or to pull them off. I lifted my butt off the floor and started doing the bicycle as I grabbed on with both hands and pulled with all my might. I finally got them on but I couldn't get up off the floor. And I couldn't breathe. And the lower half of my body was deprived of blood flow.
I just laid there.
I couldn't get them off.
I thought about my poor family. Finding their mother on her floor, dead on Easter. Mother of five children died from Spanx. It took 10 paramedics to lift her out of her house. They tried to revive her but they couldn't cut the Spanx off. The upper half of her body looked like Violet from Willy Wonka. A giant swollen blueberry.
Holy, crap, Abigail! Get off the floor. You really could die.
I managed to get those things off and settled for control top panty hose instead. It gave me a muffin top. I was spilling out over the top of my skirt. It looked like I had four boobs. Like I was a cow.
(sigh)
Such is life. I am cutting up my Spanx today. I will make lovely pony tail holders instead. Which I need. I buy a package of pony tail holders every few months and they disappear. Where they go, I do not know. Probably the same place Adrian's socks go.
Who needs Spanx any way? Everyone jiggles. It's human. I never liked them any way. They hurt. And what is up with the split in the crotch? Girls, does anyone use that feature? Can one really go pee through that? Come on people. If I could have, I would have thought it was a good idea I guess. I mean, have you ever been in a 2 x 2 bathroom stall and had to pull your Spanx back up? One time I was trying and I had to sort of lift my legs up alternatingly and I got so cracked up because all I could think about was that from the bottom of the stall, it must have looked like I was doing a serious hoe down in the bathroom. I was rendered totally dysfunctional for like 30 minutes.
1. You cannot put on Spanx while laughing.
2. Laughing that hard will make you pee again.
3. Other people in the bathroom will think you are totally nuts and ask if you are OK.
4. You will have to wait until you calm down to hoist those suckers on again.
I see weight loss success stories on TV and I read about them in books and magazines. But honestly, I don't personally know anyone who has lost a significant amount of weight and kept it off for more than a few months. And that is because it is nearly impossible. It really is. The odds are stacked against me.
But one story on Oprah really inspired me. It was the woman who lost weight by ice skating. I admit I shy away from activities where I think I might embarrass myself. My husband loves to repel and used to ask me to join him in his fun. But there was never any way I would put myself in a harness. I cringed at just the mere thought of the view from below as my butt would come barrelling toward the poor innocent people waiting their turn.
I need to let go of my fear. And the only way to do that is to face it. Goodbye Spanx. Goodbye.
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