I needed the Spanx.
I had been spending a bit of time with a new friend. It wasn’t someone from Plenty of Fish, or crazy.com, but a gentleman I had met several times when out with friends. He was right under my nose and I didn’t even know it.
But I digress.
I desperately needed some Spanx.
My new friend had seen me at my worst- two knees held together by almost 75 staples and more than several days of uncontrollable weeping when I didn’t get my meds at the hospital. “But you are supposed to request them” my @$$.He invited me to the “Christmas Gala” at the Country Club, and included an incredible outfit with the invitation. I just had to find a way look especially great, and to fit into the amazing clothes. Hence the Spanx.
Here in Smithfield, Oregon we have a lovely and intimate “Intimate” shop called Jezebels. I remembered that it moved from its downtown location to a small group of shops located at the south end of town. I had been given the “ok” to drive, and gingerly made my way to the store.
I used my cane and made my way into the store. I was surprised when I walked in to see boxes piled around the shop. I could see plenty of lingerie, nighties and various undergarments hanging around the store, but it certainly didn’t appear to be ready for customers.
“Excuse me,” a voice said, “But we’re really not open for business yet.” I looked at the young girl and smiled.
“Well, I was just looking for some Spanx and someone told me you had them! I need them for this weekend. Is there another day I can come back?”
She looked at me and a huge smile crossed her face. “Mrs. Smythe! Don’t you remember me?”
I looked at her intently and she added quickly, “It’s me! Jessie Brown! I had you in fifth grade!”
“Jessie! Oh my God! You look wonderful, and all grown up!”
“My mom and I have this shop and we’re still unpacking. But if you have cash I would be happy to sell you some Spanx!”
I laughed, remembering the reason I came in. “Yes, I really DO want the Spanx.”
She urged me to follow her through the store and we found the motherlode of Spanx neatly piled on a lovely glass shelf.
“We have all sizes, and different kinds. What’s your height and weight?”
Oh Sweet Lord, was I really talking “intimate apparel” with a girl I taught in fifth grade? Did I have to tell her my weight? And I was pretty sure the other unmentionables I was thinking of buying were completely off the table.
I whispered her my information even though her husband was at the other end of the store trying to configure something or other.
“Here,” she said, “Would you like to try it on?”
“NO!” I said quickly. “I don’t think so. I’m sure this will work.”
I handed her the money and asked her more questions about her life. We chatted happily while she placed my Spanx in a bag and walked me to the door. I gave her another hug and thanked her for “opening” for me even though I knew she was busy. “You are a beautiful young lady,” I said, “And I’m so proud of what you’ve accomplished!”
“Anything for you Mrs. Smythe. You always were on of my favorite teachers.”
I got into my car, thankful that on this day I did indeed get the Spanx, but I also received a whole lot more.