The Spawn of Satan: SPANX

June 25, 2015.Reading time 5 minutes.

On the hottest day of the year, I decided it would be a fun little experiment to take my new SPANX slip out for a test drive … like a moron. In my head I was like, “this will be amazing. I’ll get some great blog content from it. I can live tweet whilst wearing SPANX. It will be hilarious … Etc. Etc.”

Welp … if anyone stalks me via social media (which if you do I’m thoroughly flattered), you will know how much of a miserable human being I was. Probably the most miserable I’ve been in a while, strictly because I was so violently uncomfortable. I’m really not exaggerating. I almost got to work, which is an hour away from where I live, and turned right back around because I couldn’t take it.

I’m pretty sure SPANX has blocked me from Twitter, but you know what? I could careless. You would think wearing SPANX should make you feel thin, vivacious, and Kim Kardashian-curvy. Well, I felt like a stuffed disgusting sausage. I felt fat. I felt BAD about myself, using my laptop and notebook as devices to cover up my stomach. I felt like I had fat rolls in places where normally … I do not. I was fidgeting and pulling parts of my outfit up and down, just to find an inch of comfort. And I was hot. God dammit I was so hot.

While yes, my mother DID teach me if I had nothing nice to say to say nothing at all … I can’t help but feel really pissed off for the entire lady population. We are basically force fed images of stick figure models with amazing bodies on the reg, making us feel the need to shove our bodies in these constricting devices just to give off the illusion that we are JUST like them, meanwhile our organs are being unnaturally smushed together (ick).

But guess what? We are NOT. We shouldn’t feel bummed out that we love carbs and want to vomit at the sight of any sort of green juice. We should bask in that, instead of walking around all day, so insanely uncomfortable in SPANX that fiery explosions are going off in our brains and we just want to punch everything and anything.

Needless to say, I went home, almost dislocated my shoulder getting the damn SPANX off my body because it was clinging so tightly to my skin, and threw it straight in the trash. So yeah, I basically threw $50 in the trash. Awesome. Because if I’m not comfortable with the way I look, then I need to work on that with some good ol’ fashion exercise and healthy eating … not by pulling magic tricks out of my ass. BEHOLD! I’m a size 10, and once I shove myself into this corset-like contraption :::awkwardly shoves body into heinous restricting material::: … TA DA I’m a size 6. Again … bullshit.

I’ll never wear SPANX again. Mark my words. The concept is great if you want a quick fix, and if you are standing stationary on a red carpet for hours. But if that quick fix means being so uncomfortable you can’t concentrate at work, end up feeling insanely bad about yourself, and just want to cry and vomit and sacrifice walking around in a see-through dress all day JUST to relieve yourself isn’t worth it. I honestly don’t know how women like Kim Kardashian do it, as she claims she never leaves home without them. Shit … the things we do to look amazing. But this is where I draw the line, kids.

Be comfortable in your own skin. Down with SPANX, I say, down with them.

Holy SPANX! A Strapless Bra I DON’T Hate?!

November 21, 2013.Reading time 3 minutes.

Strapless bras and myself have become known arch-enemies. Tom vs. Jerry, Dr. Evil vs. Austin Powers. Kate vs. Strapless Bras. We just don’t like each other … well, more like I don’t like them and they don’t give a shit because they are inanimate objects. It’s quite unfair, if you ask me.

And since launching my blog years ago, people have asked me why I loathe the garment so much. Why would I go to such extremes as to naming a website dedicated to my pure hatred of them? Well … number 1, we aren’t all about strapless bras here at Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra (read my About section for further explanation), and number 2, it basically comes down to:

1. They cut off circulation, yet still manage to fall down

2. They do nothing for knockers … of any shape or size

3. They never fit properly under clothing. Like Never. Never ever.

This massive feud I have brewing in my life has a silver lining to it, though. This feud … has proven to me that there is still good and genuine kindness out there in a world when sometimes it is hard to believe that people still care about one another. Yet people surprise me every day by suggesting shiny and new strapless bras to try out that may heal my negative feeling towards them. And as much as I appreciate these kind gestures, they just never end up swaying my opinion.

But my lovely friends over at SPANX were not okay with me feeling like this. They wanted me to lock eyes with a strapless bra from across a field of poppies, slow motion run towards it, embrace it with open arms, and swing around in a pleasant little circle with it.

Enter the SPANX’s Bra Cha-Cha stage right. First of all, I’m a sucker for a product with a fantastic name … and this little number is a sassy bitch in the best way. Second of all, they call it the “stay-put strapless,” which trust me, when I saw this, I gave it one of my epic eye rolls accompanied with a, “psshhyeeeaahh right!”

I won’t give you a play-by-play of my entire experience wearing this bra. You don’t want hear about how I walked to the train and it didn’t fall down, or how I went for cocktails with Bra Cha-Cha and it didn’t fall down even more … or as SPANX refers to it as “jug tug,” which honestly, I mean can we get a slow clap for that.

I will explain it to you like so. My experience with the Bra Cha-Cha was much like …

This:

And this:

And that:

Oh and totes this:

Mmm hmm …:

And of course …:

But let’s not forget this happened:

Disclaimer: I will not be changing the name of my blog. And I still hate strapless bras … except this one.

A Day In The Life of a Woman Wearing Spanx

October 12, 2011.Reading time 9 minutes.

I realize sometimes us ladies can’t agree on much. But I think the concept of Spanx has the possibility to unite women in a hippy, flower child-esque kind of way. From a size negative zero to a size 16, you love Spanx. Why? Well, we all have our giggly bits that we despise, regardless if they are in our heads of not. And since I don’t really condone surgery to fix said giggly bits and working out doesn’t instantaneously make us look like Heidi Klum, enter Spanx stage right.

You clearly never know when a woman is wearing them, that is the beauty of the illusion. All you see is this fantastic human specimen looking smooth and fabulous in a great outfit, wind blowing her long locks, picture posing all the day long with perhaps “I’m Too sexy,” or “Vogue” playing in the background. But let’s step inside a woman wearing the Spanx, in fact I would like to walk you through a day of ME wearing Spanx.

7:20 a.m.: After make up and hair is did, I start putting my outfit on. So I sit down in my make up chair and start sliding on my Spanx black tights to wear with a fantastic skirt. (Prepare for the most unsexy thing you will ever read). I get the tights half way up one leg, take a deep breath and start rolling them up onto the second leg. I now stand up and start rolling them up higher and higher, over my ribs until I can’t breathe and finally until they are literally right underneath my bra. I start fidgeting and pinching myself accidentally until the control tops are not around my knees.

7:23 a.m.: In said Spanx and fantastic outfit, ribs are constricted and I’m feeling like a stuffed pig, but giggly bits are put away for a better day. Also, just realized I have to go to the bathroom … dammit.

7:25 a.m.: Try to think of a creative way to pee without taking off the Spanx that I worked so hard to get on, but fail. End up spending another five minutes getting in and out of them (I’ll save the personal details for me and my bathroom mirror) … exhausted at this point.

7:40 a.m.: Get into my car and sit down for the first time. Even more aware of this harness cutting into my abdomen and that tiny awkward space of skin in the middle of Spanx and bra that I can feel bulging out. I realize how terribly uncomfortable sitting is and how I immediately regret this decision. I also notice the control top of my stockings is sticking out of my perhaps too short skirt. Shit. I spend the mere moments I have at a red light trying to shimmy them up further … out of sight, out of mind. The car next to me definitely got an interesting show.

8:40 a.m.: Make it to work and couldn’t be more thrilled to be able to stand up again. Very conscious of the Spanx and spend an extra two minutes in my car making sure my control top isn’t hanging out and if anyone will be able to see that awkward space of skin I can feel bulging. I pray to the Gods for the best and strut my stuff into the office.

9 a.m.: Complain to a co-worker about how much Spanx suck. Start to get caffeinated and get down to business.

11:15 a.m.: Sitting is starting to get terribly uncomfortable. I’m very aware of my stomach. I can feel my ribs begging me to take a scissor to these God forsaken devil constrictors, but I resist temptation and focus on work … until I realize my control top is totally hanging out of the skirt I am wearing that is waaaaay too short when I sit. God dammit … hope no one saw that.

12:30 p.m.: Hunger is overcoming me and all I want is a fabulous grilled cheese to go along with this crisp fall weather, so I indulge. So good. Ridiculous good. Mmm.

1:30 p.m.: I immediately regret the decision of eating. As sucked in as I am, I feel bigger than I am because it is all so constricted and uncomfortable … even more than before. I’m now starting to feel the pain of women in the early 20th century who had to rock corsets. No wonder there wasn’t an obesity problem back then, no one could eat for fear of having their ribs collapse.

2:10 p.m.: Shit, I have to go to the bathroom. The thought of peeling off my Spanx makes me want to throw in the towel, but I take the voyage and start the production. Peeling them off feels like sheer ecstasy, like chocolate wrapped in champagne wrapped in couture. I realize I have a sick indentation mark from the Spanx on my stomach that resembles a snake … I’m slightly concerned. I then start the highly unattractive process of pulling them back up. Squatting, shimmying, pinching my legs trying to get the control top up as high as humanly possible, try to find a way to not have that awkward bulge in between the Spanx and my bra … consider investing in some sort of clips to forge the two entities together … then realize I’ve lost my damn mind. Pull my skirt up, tuck my shirt back in, make sure nothing is hanging out and that I don’t look like a disheveled mess. Holy mother of God … I’ve now spent seven minutes in the bathroom PEEING!

3 p.m.: I hate Spanx. Realizing the more I sit, the more pain I’m in. Perhaps Spanx aren’t meant for sitting. Hmm, perhaps Spanx aren’t meant for work. Perhaps I’m a damn fool. So aware of my abdomen, so weird.

4:30 p.m.: I decide to take a walk to relieve myself of the suffocation and to go bitch to a friend about how these God damn things are the devil because, you know, that helps.

5:30 p.m.: My day is finally over and once I leave my work parking lot I embarrassingly enough roll those bitches down so my ribs can breathe a bit, even though it only helps a tad.

6:30 p.m.: Get into my house, run upstairs and remove Spanx as fast as I can. The snake indentation on my stomach has gotten worse and all I want to do is lay down in my skivvies for relief, so I do (sexy, right?) Resist temptation to burn Spanx because they were expensive and currently the only decent black pair of stockings I own. Start feeling my ribs coming back to life and luckily nothing has collapsed.

I’m not saying Spanx aren’t fantastic, because they are … well … the CONCEPT is fantastic, the wearing them part is bullshit. As women, we do crazy things to look our best, but this is God damn torture. Lesson learned, maybe don’t wear them on an average day in the office.

But after a long, uncomfortable and restricted day … I’ve never been so fond of my giggly bits in my life.