Today I found myself in Tulsa catching a flight for Denver and yet again facing the body scanner.
I thought I was a Pro by now. I stepped into my little pod, put my hands above my head and waited while they checked out anything and everything that could be on my person.
“Step to the side please ma’am,” TSA said, which I quietly and compliantly did. “Does your skirt have pockets?”
Well I don’t think so. As a general rule I try to avoid pencil skirts with pockets, I think they make me look too hippy. But I ran my hands around my skirt just to make sure.
“No,” I said, “No pockets.”
“Well I need to do a pat down. Would you like me to do it here or would you like to go to a private place?”
I smiled at this question. Would you rather have a bikini wax or your nose hairs plucked out? Either way, it’s gonna hurt and I’m gonna be red….one half dozen to the other.
So she starts patting me down. “I need to feel up your leg,” she said inching my non-hippy, no-pocket pencil skirt a little higher. “I thought I saw something metal around your hips.” Her hand continued to move up my leg. “If I can even get up there!”
If I can even get up there….any higher up my conservative, black, Nordstrom suit and I could ask the security line for dollars.
“Hmmmmm,” she stood back and looked at me perplexed. “Well there’s nothing, you can go.”
Well now hold on a second Honey, let me put myself back together. I pulled my jacket down, smoothed my skirt and felt my no-fail, holder of loose rolls, and container of that which cannot be contained.....my Spanx undergarments ….
….the one thing sitting right at my hips.
Could that be it? Could it have been the Spanx? It’s not metal but maybe my magic hold-your-tummy-in with-copious- amount-of-elastic-and-lycra-wonder-slip was just enough packaging to set the machine off.
That was the only thing at my hips.
This is my theory, the scanner does not like my spanx.
Any more spanx induced pat-downs and I might have get rid of my super tummy slip and start doing sit-ups instead.
Now that’s just crazy talk.