Spank-ed

What do you wear to take your grandson to see his first play—The Lion King?  It’s September so the days are relatively cool here in the desert—highs around 100 instead of 110.

They say it’s a dry heat, but then again, so is an oven.

I choose a loose white cotton shirt and lightweight tights that I can dress up with jewelry.  Now comes the hard part—undergarments.

I pull a pair of black Spanx (my mother thinks they are called Skanks) out of the drawer and ponder.  I am of an age when Spanx are a definite necessity, especially under lightweight tights. 

Then again, it will still be in the 90s when we walk into the theater.  Just getting out of the car in that heat will cause me to break out in a sweat, leaving the Spanx and me soaked in sweat.  Sitting for several hours in damp Spanx sounds like torture devised by the Inquisition.

I choose black cotton underwear and pray the loose blouse will cover the obvious bulges.  Without restraints, my body pops out like Pillsbury Crescent Rolls when you smack the container on the edge of the kitchen counter.

My grandson jumps out of the car wearing shorts and cowboy boots.  He is adorable and I wish I had the fashion sense of a 5-year-old.

His parents and I take photos in front of the stage to celebrate the occasion.  The Lion King does not disappoint and he sits mesmerized for the entire show.  The hyena scenes make him cuddle with his mom but otherwise, he sits, rapt.

“I didn’t know it would be like that,” he says softly as we file out.  I congratulate myself on introducing him to live theater.

I relax in the back seat as my son drives us home.  We chatter about the play and how wonderful it was.  Elephants walking down the aisle!  Birds soaring over our heads!

I scroll through the photos, happy and content.  Then I get to the photos of me.  Son of a biscuit!

I definitely should have worn Spanx.