You can't keep a good woman down.
Or rather, in.
I'm talking, of course, about Spanx.
If you don't know what Spanx is, let me tell you.
It's a girdle.
But it's called a "body shaping garment," in that it compresses your flesh, nerves, and internal organs so that you look thinner. In other words, Spanx is a great idea if you don't like oxygen.
Anyway, you might remember that, about six years ago, I wrote about how much I hated Spanx. I got introduced to them when I bought a pair by accident, thinking they were tights. I got my size, which is B.
I took them home and put them on, which was like slipping into a tourniquet. I actually managed to squeeze myself into them, then I put on a dress and looked at myself in the mirror.
From the front, I looked like a Tootsie Roll with legs.
From the back, instead of having buttocks, I had buttock.
In other words, my lower body had been transformed into a cylinder. I had become the cardboard in the roll of toilet paper. I no longer had saddlebags where God intended.
Also the elastic waistband was giving me a do-it-yourself hysterectomy.
Plus, I couldn't breathe.
Actually, that's incorrect. I could inhale, but not exhale.
Turns out you need both.
I didn't understand the product, so I went to the website, which explained that they were "slimming apparel." The website claimed that "these innovative undergarments eliminate VBL (visible bra lines) and VPL (visible panty lines)."
Would this be a good time to say that I'm in favor of VBL and VPL? Especially VPL. In fact, I want my P as V as possible.
You know why?
Because I wear P.
I don't know what kind of signal we're sending if we want our butts to suggest otherwise.
Also, when I looked in the mirror, I noticed that the fat on my hips was being squeezed upward, leaving a roll at my waist which could pass for a flotation device.
I checked the website, and Spanx had the solution, in "slimming camis." That is, camisoles that fit like Ace bandages, which presumably grabbed the fat roll at the waist and squeezed it upward, so that it popped out at the top, as breasts.
Or rather, ta-tas!
So I was cranky about my Spankies.
I threw them out and wrote about how much I hated them.
At the time, some women replied by e-mail, agreeing with me, but most disagreed, saying they loved their Spanx.
But, evidently, no more.
Or maybe they died from lack of circulation.
Today I saw an article in the newspaper, reporting that Spanx sales have taken a downturn.
I don't normally rejoice in the misfortunes of others, but: Yay!
And why are sales sliding?
Because women wanted to be comfortable!
Also, their spleens staged a protest.
Because you can't keep a good woman down.
We got depressed.
Because we were oppressed.
Women are learning to accept themselves, just the way we are.
But the same newspaper article also said that women were ditching their Spanx for yoga pants, which is like jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire.
I have a pair of yoga pants - but, on me, they're yogurt pants.
And, believe me, the fruit is on the bottom.
In fact, as I get older, everything is on the bottom.
But Spanx isn't taking this setback lying down.
Which is surprising, because if you wear Spanx, that's all you can do.
Spanx has a new president, and she's starting to stress comfort, such as bras with "soft-touch underwire contouring."
When was the last time you saw a "soft" underwire bra?
I have an underwire bra, which feels like under-barbed-wire. I wear it for book signings, when I want to look 50.
It rides up to the middle of my breasts, leaving a red line on my skin that looks as if somebody played connect the dots with my nipples.
So I won't be buying the "soft touch" underwire.
I'm not a soft touch.
Look for Lisa and Francesca's latest humor collection, "Meet Me at the Emotional Baggage Claim." Also, look for Lisa's latest novel, "Every Fifteen Minutes," in stores now.