An Ode to My Spanx
I just wanted to write and let you know that I'm thinking about you. And, well ... I think I love you.
Never has an item of clothing made me feel so perfect, so secure, so smooth. You're strong and reliable, and virtually invisible under even my tightest fitting skirts. Other people may not always know you're there—but I do.
Spanx, you've stuck with me (and, in the summer, to me), through thick and thin, through muffin top and saddle bags.
Remember my first post-college interview? When I couldn't pull my one designated "interview dress" over my cheap-beer-and-junk-food-logged behind? You were there for me, and hey—I think you just might have gotten me that job.
Remember when I cried because I couldn't button my then "fat jeans"? You held me tight, smoothed the situation over, and turned a no-pants-to-wear-emergency into a fantastic evening out with the gals.
Remember when I thought I could wear white pants? Well, you know how that story ends.
Spanx, you've seen sides of me that not many have seen before: scary, lumpy sides. But you're still here. That's how I know you're in this for the long haul.
And I just want you to know that I am, too.
I can't wait to see you this weekend.
Saddle Bag Sister
I met your sister, Jeggings, a few weeks ago. She's fabulous.
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