I'm 35 years old. And what I've learned about life when you start getting old is that shit starts getting weird. You find yourself in positions you never thought you'd be in. You start doing things you said you'd never do. You reach a point where you realize if 25 year old You could see 35 year old You, he'd be disgusted and ashamed. I've learned that life ends up taking you places you never thought, expected, or wanted to go.

And so I've also learned to live a judgment free life. I mean dont get me wrong, I certainly have my opinions. Thats how I've gotten to where I am today - giving my opinions on shit on the internet. But I grew to understand that life comes at you fast, and you might talk shit about certain people and certain lifestyles and before you know it, you find yourself in that same exact goddam boat. So yes, I'll judge you...but I'll judge you with the caveat that I fully comprehend the notion that I may end up doing the very thing I'm making fun of. When it comes to women, and clothes, and work, and style, and social life...basically your entire lifestyle is subject to change as you get old. Right now you might be yuggin a zillion beers, hanging with the boys, wearing a throwback jersey, partying in the club. And in a few years you're sipping on a cabernet, shmoopy shmoopy with your lady, wearing a sport coat to get into your early bird dinner reservation before heading home to watch the season finale of This Is Us. You’ll swear up and down that will never be you. You’ll convince yourself that you are somehow different...that You, completely average, middle of the road, not at all special in any way, man, shall somehow buck the trend of humanity and separate yourself from the billions of men who came before you and said the same exact thing before turning into everything I described.

So long story short I am hyper aware of aging appropriately and I know how this story ends for all of us who are just another number at the deli counter. But I think I gotta draw the line somewhere. And I found that line. Last week I went to dinner with my buddies. We have an email chain with like 20 of us on there and we schedule a monthly dinner. Like a pathetic old couple who doesn’t want to fuck each other anymore but they know they have to so they schedule sex. We have to schedule fun. Once a month...which then stretches into every other month, we all get together. And when I say "all" I mean like 6-9 guys who can escape from Guantanamo, AKA their life, and have a meal and some drinks for the night. I missed about a BILLION in a row and so my promise to myself is that I resume going every month. So last week we go to dinner. Old school throwback to Tony D’Napolis, as if we’re still a bunch of bridge and tunnel idiots who want some chicken parm. I’m catching up with the boys, playing a game of Adult Bingo. If you don’t know Adult Bingo, listen to today’s Mailtime. It’s when you’re 30+ and you can basically call out every topic of conversation you’re gonna have in a given night out with other washed up people. From Kids, to your property taxes, to your diet, and all this other painful shit nobody cares about. So we're playing, and I've got B-I-N-G...and all of a sudden by buddy throws me a curveball out of fucking nowhere. I coulda used a bus boy in the kitchen banging on a trash to prepare me for this pitch.

“So I’ve been wearing SPANX recently. You guys do that?”

He hit it with such confidence. Emphasized the SPANX. Asked if we wore them as if he was talking about something guys universally do. Like “So I jerked off in the shower the other day. You guys ever try that?” "Hey I had a cheeseburger for lunch. You wat those?" But no, bro. Not spanx. Nobody here has been bodyshaping. I got up and left the table. Like a black guy seeing David Blaine do magic. I just removed myself from the situation. I couldn’t control myself. The laughter, the confusion, and the refusal to normalize this behavior and let this actually be a topic of conversation at 1 of our 8 nights out per year. I had to draw the line there.

Right? That’s a place I gotta stand up for Be Normal. Like I never thought I’d drink unsweetened iced tea. I never thought I’d stop going out and having fun. I never thought I’d be a divorced dad taking Roman pills for my hair and my dick. All that stuff happened. But I really, really, REALLY don’t think I’m gonna start wearing Spanx. I just really, truly, genuinely feel like I can confidently say when it’s time to take a dirt nap in a pine box, I can go to the grave saying I never resorted to wearing Spanx. Wearing a girdle is the spot I say, enough is enough. I’ll have a gut or love handles or whatever before I start wearing Kim K’s stretchy underpants. I think I’d rather look like Chris Christie at the Little League World Series before I wearing Spanx.



But, if you can read the hesitation in my writing, it’s because I’m sitting over here thinking to myself, “maybe it’s a good plan?” I started thinking to myself, girls have been doing shit like this for years. Wearing make up and concealer and clothes and underwear that flatten or enhance or shape. And guess what? It fucking works for them. They’re the fairer sex. So I check in on him to follow up on this revelation:

So here I am, about to legitimately fucking GOOGLE THIS SHIT to see if there’s some merit to this idea. In fairness to me, this friend E is always sharp. Always dressed nicer than us, looked better than us. Always the topic of conversation, life of the party, and center of attention. I used to make fun of a lot of the things he did and wore only to end up doing it myself a few years later. So I’m about to consider considering it when he follows up on the group text with THIS fucking thing:

I mean get all. The Fuck. The Way. Out. Absolutely fucking not. Are you kidding me with that??? Are you a Real Life Superhero?? Is that your Supe costume? Are you going fencing with that? Are you living in the Victorian era with that corset? I mean there’s no way I could wear that. And I’m not talking about pride or anything. I’m talking about I literally don’t think I could wear that. I don’t even know how I’d put these on. I'd probably pull a muscle trying to stuff myself into those. I'd look like Scott Calvin going down the skinny chimney in The Santa Clause

I feel like I'd end up slingshotting those across the fucking room trying to put em on in the morning. And maybe he can go home at night to his long term girlfriend and take off his girdle and not feel embarrassed but can you imagine going home with a girl for the first time in those things? Can you imagine her watching you as you try to peel those things off your body? Can you imagine YOURSELF watching you do that? Just a level I dont think I can go to. It obviously works. You'll look skinnier. You'll look better. You look in shape. But you wont have any dignity anymore. And dignity is a SCARCE commodity for your boy. I described my dick as a rescue dog yesterday. I told everyone about how I watched a porn where a girl put her entire outfit inside her asshole. I dont have much respect for myself left. And I'm not gonna waste the last remaining bit at the bottom of the barrel on a pair of goddam Spanx. Go ahead with your flat stomach, buddy. I'll be the guy in the corner with the muffin top who's able to look at himself in the mirror in the morning. I'll be the guy with the belly who can rest his head at night knowing he's not wearing lady underwear with a dick pouch.

But to each their own. And I reserve the right to reverse all of this when I cave in and put my fat ass in some skinny underpants in a couple years.