I really thought the Fed Ex guy that comes to my office had a little crush on me.
When he delivers a package that I have to sign for he likes to chat me up a little bit, ask me how my day is, how my weekend was, isn’t the weather nice, etc.
Sometimes I see him when I am out for a run on my lunch hour. He always signals for me to take my headphones off and asks me how many miles I’m up to, what music I’m listening to, and gives me an encouraging “good for you” wink and a nod.
Now don’t get me wrong, I have zero interest in the Fed Ex guy. I just enjoy the feeling that somebody may still find me attractive, getting the old “I still got it” feeling.
But guess what? I know now that he’s so not into me.
How do I know?
Well let me tell you…
The other afternoon I took a package down to the second floor where the Fed Ex drop-off box is located. In our building Fed Ex comes at 4:30 sharp, and there my guy was at 4:25 busy at work.
“Hey, how are you doing?” I asked.
“Good”, he answered, “Hey, you still running?”
“Yes”, I said proudly, waiting for him to say something like “It sure shows”, or “You can totally tell.”
What came out of Mr. Fed Ex’s mouth next was something no man should ever say to a woman.
Especially a woman you don’t even know.
“Can I ask you something?” he said. Oh God, I thought, he is going to ask me out, ugh, this is going to be awkward…
”Do you wear Spanx?” He asked.
“What?” I said, my palms immediately starting to sweat.
“Spanx, do you wear Spanx?”
“Ummm, yeah, sometimes. Why?”
I was already exhausted by this conversation.
And why was I talking to the Fed Ex guy about my underwear?
He went on to tell me that he has a side business where he sells vitamins, supplements, and medical grade garments that are much stronger and more effective than Spanx.
Call me crazy but “medical grade garment” sounded pretty uncomfortable to me.
“Oh nooooo,” he said, assuring me that his sister and mother both found the “garment” extremely comfortable.
He handed me a business card that said "Drop 2-3 Dress Sizes in 10 Minutes" with some clip art of a cartoon woman with measuring tape around her waist.
On my way back up in the elevator to the twelfth floor, I stared hard at that card and for a second thought about following in Fed Ex guy’s sister’s and mother’s footsteps and giving the garment a go.
I have a love/hate relationship with my Spanx. Some days I will rave about them along with millions of other women, touting them as a miracle product and wonder how I ever lived without them.
Other days I wrestle to get into them, curse them, fight with them on every bathroom trip and hurl them across the room at the end of the day when I peel them off my poor tired body.
A few days after the Fed Ex guy incident I wore my Spanx to work under a new dress I had bought. I had gone out for dinner the night before and thought I could use a little extra “support.”
But by 10:30 that morning I went into the bathroom and took those effers off.
Nope, not gonna do it. I looked in the mirror at myself before I left the bathroom. I looked exactly the same, zero difference. I prayed none of my co-workers would see me walking from the bathroom back to my desk with what looked to be my balled up undies in my hand.
I have a recurring nightmare involving me doing a sexy striptease dance up on a stage wearing various Spanx garments. I struggle to suggestively peel off the layers while dancing to “Pour Some Sugar On Me”, tripping and falling and getting all caught up in a web of restraint from the unforgiving spandex.
I think for now I am good going through a ‘natural’ phase. Spanx free. For now.
Fed Ex guy, next time I see you out on the street I’m keeping my headphones on.