I couldn’t possibly have named the blog Spanx are from the devil.
That might just get me into some kind of trouble and I don’t want the fluffy girls store or whoever else sells them to be mad at me, because frankly I’m fluffy and I need to be allowed to shop in their stores.
But I digress.
Ladies can we be real for a moment?
If you don’t know to what I’m referring, then you’re either not a woman, or you probably goto the gym a lot more than I do. Spanx…That wonderful garment that illicits fear and wonder in every woman alive. The piece of clothing that we must have but pretend that we don’t need.
For those who don’t know what Spanx are, I will explain. Spanx is a magical, mystical material that expands just enough for you to get into them, and yet holds “things in” while smoothing out the err “bumpy” parts of your body. Pretty cool huh? It is the cadillac of girdles. It is the girdle of the new millennium. It will hold in and shape your body in ways that I didn’t think were possible after having children. Let’s be real. I’ve got some bumpy parts to be sure. They are equipped with an “open space” in the middle so that you don’t even have to take them off when you have to use the potty. (Yes, I said potty, I’m the mother of a four year old.)
I mean, really!?! How cool is that.
But here’s the thing…
While it is true that they work minor miracles
for women all over the country and the world, possibly;
you have to actually be able to, well, get them on…
It’s almost like an Olympic event.
At least for me.
If you don’t have these issues getting into them,
feel free to call me, text me, or Facebook me…
I’m like; sooo not joking.
I’m not shy by any means, but I would not let my husband be in the room when I put my Spanx on. There is groaning and moaning and sometimes falling as I pull the magical fabric over my thighs and attempt to pull them over years of stretch marks, reminding me of the sacrifices we make to become mothers, the lengths we goto to be “beautiful” as women.
It’s pretty funny really.
At least Robert thought so when he came into our room as I fought with my Spanks, attempting to get dressed for church one Sunday morning. I’m pretty sure that I was talking to them; and though I don’t curse, I was probably giving them a strong talking to… I remember having my back turned to our bedroom door and hopping up and down as I pulled them up and lost my balance as I fell sideways onto my bed. I looked up to see my husband holding what appeared to be breakfast for me with his mouth wide open. So yes, my backside in all it’s glory had been what greeted him as he entered our room. “Woman, what are you doing?” Sideways, laid out on my bed and almost in tears; I yelled, “I’m trying to look beautiful!” “Do you need some help?,” he asked. “I need all kinds of help!,” I screamed back at him. “It’s your fault that I have to wear these godforsaken things!”
Blank stare from him. I stared back…
Yes; with my Spanxs halfway on…
I was laid bare before him; and honestly,
I’d never felt so ugly and exposed in my life.
I sat there, on the side of my bed defeated, grabbing my robe, attempting to cover up what I hated about myself. He came and sat beside me. I started weeping softly. He put my hands into his. “Woman, you’ve never been more beautiful to me.” “So, what you’re saying is that you have a thing for old fat women?” I responded sniffling. “Gretchen!” “Don’t talk about yourself like that!” He took my face into both of his hands and looked into my eyes. “You are a beautiful, godly woman. You’re a great mom, a wonderful friend; You are everything I have ever wanted in a woman. Your stretch marks; those are your battle scars that remind me of the gift that you gave me in our five children. You. Are. Beautiful.” “It hurts me when you say negative things about your self. I don’t see those things and more importantly, God doesn’t see those things when he looks at you. He sees his daughter that he loves. He see a daughter that chooses to serve him; a daughter that he dearly loves.” I melted into him now, relieved, assured and encouraged. I looked up at him as I leaned on his chest, his arms now around me… “Thank you honey; thank you for loving me despite myself.” “Can I ask you a question?’ “Yes, woman.” “What?” he asked. “Can you please help me get out of these Spanx?” “I can’t feel my legs.”
Blank stare… True story.
Don’t get me wrong; I love me some Spanx.
But remembering that moment with my husband reminded me of how hard I am on myself; how hard I try to make everything perfect and then beat myself up because I’ve failed to reach my very unrealistic expectations. Robert reminded me that what I see is not what God sees. Oh, how I thank God for all of those years with my very wise husband. Though he’s not here, I still lean on his wisdom; wisdom that I know was given by the Lord.
We don’t have to be perfect.
We don’t even have to be close.
We don’t have to have it all together; we’re just called to lean on Christ.
He sees our beauty–when we only see our flaws.
He sees our heart–when we see our failures.
He sees his beloved daughter–when we feel inadequate.
We need only to reach for his hand and hold tight.
We need to ask him to help us take the Spanx off.
We need not be perfect; for we are already perfected in Him.
Now before you think ill of me; rest assured, I’m not giving up my Spanx. As a matter of fact, I’d be the poster woman for Spanx if it meant I could get a lifetime supply of Spanx for free. I’ve just realized that I can go without them from time to time and the world won’t end; well, at least I don’t think it will!
Be blessed friends!