I'm Addicted to Support Undergarments

I'm not going to call this a Whoreticulture Friday post, because technically, support undergarments are not, by nature, whorish.  But.

"My name is Julie the Wife, and I'm addicted to Spanx."

(wifers) "Hi Julie."

I didn't always wear support undergarments.  I didn't really need to for a while, and then I didn't realize I needed to for a while, and then fitted t-shirts and hip-slung jeans came back into vogue and I tried a pair of Spanx on and I was done.  Muffin top = reduced.  Panty lines = gone.  You had me at "How the hell I am going to get these up over my thighs?"  And?  I do love me some gravy.  I ain't quittin you, gravy. 

This morning, I got dressed for my Hooker Convention, and we all know one wants to look one's best at a Hooker Convention.  I put on my trusty pair of support undergarments, and then pulled on my khakis.  Uh-oh.  We have a Code Red.  My khakis had somehow shrunk in the wash (because OBVIOUSLY it had nothing to do with my eating habits), and I could see where my Spanx ended on my thighs through my pants.  Shit.  I took off the Spanks.

Oh Hell No. 

"Double muffin and are those Victoria's secret briefs?  I might even be able to see what color they are through your pants!"  I spent the next hour doing deep knee bends in the middle of my room, so as to stretch the offending pants.  Because I wasn't going anywhere without that muffin contained.  Effing Starbucks and their tempting little carbohydrate bread goods.  I was late for the convention, so I jogged across the courtyard from the hotel to the exhibition hall.  It was weird, but my shirt kept coming untucked.  Those slick little suckers under my pants kept pushing that shirt out like it was a drowning swimmer gasping for air.  I got into the building and tucked it in for the last time.  Of course, 30 minutes later, I realized with horror that I had tucked my t-shirt into the waistband of my Spanx, not my pants.  It barely showed, but STILL.  Who had my back, people?  Where was the sister who said, "Hey, your Spanx are surfacing."

Later in the day, I was talking with a hooker and I laughed so hard that a little bit of snot flew out of my nose, and we both noticed.

I celebrated this evening by eating Beef Tenderloin Tips in Burgundy Sauce with German Spaetzle, mushrooms, asparagus tips, and Bleu cheese.  And then all was well again in the world.

Spanx wearers, Unite!  It is time to get each other's backs.  Tomorrow, I plan to top today's performance by showing up at the convention in a skirt and my bra.

Here is that t-shirt:

Don't I look like someone just told me

 I need to clean the bathrooms at the hotel?

Have a Happy Friday, Wifers!