Thanks for Spanx and More

It’s November, so it must be reflection time. The time of year when we construct elaborate lists enumerating our blessings and reviewing just where life has propelled or drop-kicked us to in the past twelve months.

Frequently, writers fortunate enough to claim regular column space use the holiday season to convey sentimental messages they wouldn’t dream of voicing any other time. While it’s appropriate to get a little mushy, it’s also easy to go overboard and overdose on sunshine, when we turn our lives into a script from a Disney movie, complete with millions of small miracles surrounding us daily, along with the requisite bluebirds flying around and singing in the background.

Not even remotely close to anyone’s reality. So this year, I thought I’d wax a little less philosophical and a little more practical regarding my myriad of blessings. (I’m still going to get mushy, but I promise it’ll be brief.)

First, I am thankful for Spanx. No, let me amend that. I am profoundly, eternally, overwhelmingly thankful for Spanx. For those of you who’ve been on a self-imposed media fast during the past year, Spanx are the current undergarment of choice for those of us engaged in a full-scale war with gravity. Spanx are to this generation of women what corsets and girdles were to previous generations. Spanx keep our parts where our parts are supposed to be, redistributing our stuff so it not only looks like we have less stuff to start with, but the stuff we do have is lumpless, bulgeless and flawless. And Beyonce wears Spanx. I’ve seen the pictures.

Second, I am thankful for HDTV. I do not yet own an HDTV, or the process which turns one’s television into HDTV (obviously, I’m not sure how any of that works), but I know the effect HDTV has on the countenances of performers whom I previously thought were descended from some alien race blessed with perfect skin. The big thing about HDTV is texture, and texture, in the form of really big pores and not so fine lines and wrinkles, is exactly the gift HDTV bestows on those of us watching. In other words, if Katherine Heigl from Grey’s Anatomy suddenly gets a zit, we’re gonna see it. And while I don’t wish “a pox” on anyone’s visage, seeing that beauty with a pimple, or observing first hand the deepening of Katie Couric’s between-the-brows furrow (the ratings aren’t improving), does my heart good in a rather perverse way, making those heavenly bodies appear much more human.

Finally (here comes the mushy part), I’m thankful for the brief glimpse into the future that I received last weekend. My middle child, Laura, along with other students studying adaptive Physical Education from West Chester University, took part in a conference for the Special Olympics in which the students led two groups of special needs individuals in a session called “Movin’ and Grovin’,” designed to encourage physical movement and fun. The students, and my daughter, were a revelation. I watched in amazement as Laura and her friends took a group of strangers with special needs and turned them into a dancing, laughing group of new friends all in the span of an hour. My daughter was kind, astute, intuitive, and I got a peek of the empathetic, responsible adult she’s well on her way to becoming. We parents don’t often get to see that stuff. I raised a great person. Yay, me.

I could go on, but the point is, I’ve lots to be thankful for, from the sublime to the ridiculous. And I’m grateful for it all. Happy Thanksgiving!

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