Ya, that’s right, I said Spanx. And I really can’t even believe I need to say it, but I do because just this past week, I witnessed a real-life man stumble his way around Lane Bryant and decide to buy his wife Spanx because “she had asked for them.”

Jesus, Tim, get it together (that’s his real name - I know because he was loud and sort of panic-stricken, so he was hard to ignore.) She might have asked for them, but Spanx are something you buy her on a random Saturday and lay on the bed with a note saying, “I think you’re sexy without Spanx, but since you asked….”

You do not - I repeat DO NOT - buy them for Christmas and actually wrap them in a fucking box to be opened at the family celebration in front of your overbearing mother.

So, Tim (or Tom or Mike or whatever they’re calling straight guys these days), it’s obvious to me you need some help in the gift department, and I’ve got you covered.

Like your own personal, big-bellied, rosy-cheeked, super-gay Santa Claus.

For one day only, I am happy to depart from my customary, long-form, “be your best self” blog to deliver a gift of gargantuan proportions directly to your door. I will teach you to read through the lines of your wife’s wish list, and as an added bonus, I will set your solution to song.

What can I say… I’m feeling festive. And poetic. And I feel like Tim’s wife needs a voice in this thing, so it’s written from her, to him, with love. Feel free to throw in any name of your choosing for effect… it will likely fit just fine (unlike the spandex torture sleeve Tim’s wife is getting for Christmas.)

Timmy, Did You Know

Timmy, did you know that the gifts you give, they’ve been a bit lackluster.

Timmy, did you know that I’m quite distressed, is this all you can muster?

Did you know that the list I gave was full of hope you’d see

That the only thing I’m looking for is finding space for me.

Timmy, did you know that the life we live, it’s slowly making me hide.

Timmy, did you know that at Christmas time, I die a little inside.

Did you know that that thing I crave is not under the tree

No the thing I crave, the thing I need is that you might see me.

Timmy, did you know?

The lingerie, the candle set, that brand new mixing bowl…

The Peleton, the Dyson vac… just stop now, you can gooooo.

Timmy, did you know?

Yes, there is a verse three and four. No, I won’t share it. At some point it just gets embarrassing, all of this asking if he knows. He does not, in fact, know, which is how we landed here in the first place.

So, rather than make Timmy continue to guess, I’ll put the kitschy re-write aside and get straight to the point.

Let it be known to husbands and partners and spouses and lovers the world over:

What you give her doesn’t matter.

How you give it does.

Maybe you don’t believe me. I mean, you should. I’m gay. I know women in every sense you can imagine, so I am to be trusted, but because I’m an evidenced-based kind of girl, let’s take a short trip down the days of Christmas past for some critical analysis, shall we?

Remember that year you bought her a spa day? I mean, kind of lame, but safe, right?

Wrong.

Here’s a real-life sneak peek into the way this translates to the woman in your life:

“Oh yay! A spa day! My shoulders are killing me and my face is so dry. But I probably won’t be able to book it until after the first of the year, but then Noah’s daycare is changing and weekends are definitely out because of winter sports, so I’ll have to take a half day PTO and my boss is being an ass about how much time I’m taking away from my desk, so maybe I can schedule over spring break when the kids will be home, but I could get a babysitter….” And on and on and on, until it’s fucking August of the next year and the gift certificate has done nothing other than gather dust on her dresser.

You see? The how is where you need help. Try this instead:

Get the spa day AND book the appointment (4-6 weeks out so she has plenty of time to adjust and move another commitment if she needs to.) Arrange for the kids to be picked up, dinner to be delivered, and welcome her home after her treatment with kids who are cared for and a plate full of her favorite things. Now the gift feels like a gift.
I know, that one felt like low-hanging fruit, didn’t it. I’m sure you already knew all of that. Here, I’ll up my game a little.

How about that family photo session? Seemed like a GREAT idea, right? She had been begging for new family photos for months, so this was a clear sign you were paying attention.

Wrong.

I mean, yes, she was grateful you had heard her, but Tim, you’ve got to see the whole picture when it comes to getting pictures.

After seventy-six attempts to find two hours where everyone was free on a Thursday, she was finally able to book the photographer. Then she got the wardrobe guide and hit Old Navy with three screaming children in tow. She picked out five perfectly complementary outfits of various textures and tones, still sort of excited for the shoot. But then came THE DAY. The youngest was teething, the oldest had developed a sudden aversion to both texture and tone, and she didn’t have enough time to curl her hair because you didn’t get the middle kid from the sitter. Tim, she was sweaty and seething, but since you spent approximately $3000 on this session, she was still smiling. This, my dear friend, is not a gift.

Okay, you’re starting to see a little more clearly here, I can feel it. I’ll come in for the close now.

Want to now how to buy a gift for the woman in your world?

You have to look directly at her and see the weight she carries first.

Yes, see the weight of a body that has been rearranged by an act of love.

(A BODY THAT DOES NOT NEED TO BE TAMED WITH SPANX FOR FUCK SAKE)

But also the weight of a life that has been rearranged in that same spirit.

She is carrying this weight with her always.

Lift it a little.

That’s your how.

Always.

If that’s your rule… to lift her weight a little… I swear to you, the what will not matter.

Or you could keep buying her things that pile on the weight, only adding to the endless list of unmet expectations, but I’d advise against that. I mean I don’t have to be at Christmas to know Tim’s 2020 might not start off with a bang. And I don’t have to be at your Christmas to know that the woman in your life needs you to see her. All of her. Exactly as she is. And then lift her a little and watch everything about the world around you get a little lighter. That’s what women do. That’s who we are. We bring light. So, help us shine. If you do, the light just might find a way to warm you, too.

Stop Buying Her Spanx: A Holiday Gift Guide for the Guys