This is mostly non food related I am, however, sharing it as a warm weather PSA...
***
The foundation undergarment is a marvel of modern science. Forget plastic surgery, the good ones have the power to lift, tuck and seperate with militancy that is, truly, unheralded.
But while I’ve traditionally been all for the foundation garment as a means of women's empowerment, I had an epiphany shortly after New Years, while I was at the grocery store shopping for underwear.
You read that right.
There I was, purchasing my unmentionables in Aisle Ten; right next to the peanuts and chips, trying to decide whether to buy the white extra firm panty/girdle, or the beige body shaper with lift and control.
I had just about decided on the white, along with a bra that could best be described as a cross between a flack jacket and a bullet proof vest, when a flash of awareness hit me. A thunderbolt of insight, an Oprah light bulb moment, a ... well okay, it was just a stock boy with a flashlight - but still, in that moment as he shuffled through the maternity bras, I realized I no longer wanted to shop at The Real Canadian Superstore for my underwear.
Like Scarlett O'Hara, I backed my cart down the aisle fist in the air, head held high and vowed: "With God as my witness, I will never wear Playtex again!"
But not before I bought the extra firm panty girdle.
Because you never know when an event is going to come up that requires that extra bit of support.
Bringing me back to this morning.
I had no clean underwear (like I said, life has been busy) so, on this hot June day, I naturally thought the Playtex would be my best bet.
I don't know what kind of microfibres the Playtex corporation puts into its panty girdle, but I'm here to tell you, stuffing myself into this thing was no less than an olympic event.
First I had to get it past my thighs and I adopted a kind of shimmying motion with my hips - swish shish, oooomph tug, swish swish, oooomph tug - which slowly moved the interlocking fibres into place.
But as soon as my thighs were situated, they popped out the leg bands like one of those dehydrated meals they serve astronauts on the space shuttle.
Kapow!
and
Kaplooey!
Respectively.
By that time, I had worked up quite the sweat.
Let me go on record by saying that getting lycra up and over hot flesh in late June is not only challenging, it's damn near miraculous and it became a coordinated effort of stuffing, placement, and breath holding so that by the time everything was in place, I was not only stuffed into the panty girdle, I was hermetically sealed.
It was uncomfortable, but it gave me really good posture.
That is until I dropped something onto the floor and bent over to pick it up.
The bending motion set off a chain of events that, in retrospect, should have been anticipated because the panty girdle expanded beyond capacity.
Anyone who's ever worn control top knows that this can only mean one thing - the terrible and inevitable BLOOP.
The lycra holds for as long as it can and then lets go.
Suddenly everything that is being held within its grip is released as the waist band rolls down, and it all pops out.
***
Epilogue: I am currently relaxed and comfortable in The Poolboy's boxer shorts. You can't even tell under my skirt and there is a lovely breeze...
Happy hump day everyone!
xoxo
Not sure what to cook for Weekday Wednesday?
How about my Crunchy Chicken Ceasar Wraps?
For the printable recipe, please click HERE
Tweet
Bring the daily magic of The Kitchen Witch straight to your inbox every time a new one is written.
Or you can subscribe by rss feed...
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***
The foundation undergarment is a marvel of modern science. Forget plastic surgery, the good ones have the power to lift, tuck and seperate with militancy that is, truly, unheralded.
But while I’ve traditionally been all for the foundation garment as a means of women's empowerment, I had an epiphany shortly after New Years, while I was at the grocery store shopping for underwear.
You read that right.
There I was, purchasing my unmentionables in Aisle Ten; right next to the peanuts and chips, trying to decide whether to buy the white extra firm panty/girdle, or the beige body shaper with lift and control.
I had just about decided on the white, along with a bra that could best be described as a cross between a flack jacket and a bullet proof vest, when a flash of awareness hit me. A thunderbolt of insight, an Oprah light bulb moment, a ... well okay, it was just a stock boy with a flashlight - but still, in that moment as he shuffled through the maternity bras, I realized I no longer wanted to shop at The Real Canadian Superstore for my underwear.
Like Scarlett O'Hara, I backed my cart down the aisle fist in the air, head held high and vowed: "With God as my witness, I will never wear Playtex again!"
But not before I bought the extra firm panty girdle.
Because you never know when an event is going to come up that requires that extra bit of support.
Bringing me back to this morning.
I had no clean underwear (like I said, life has been busy) so, on this hot June day, I naturally thought the Playtex would be my best bet.
I don't know what kind of microfibres the Playtex corporation puts into its panty girdle, but I'm here to tell you, stuffing myself into this thing was no less than an olympic event.
First I had to get it past my thighs and I adopted a kind of shimmying motion with my hips - swish shish, oooomph tug, swish swish, oooomph tug - which slowly moved the interlocking fibres into place.
But as soon as my thighs were situated, they popped out the leg bands like one of those dehydrated meals they serve astronauts on the space shuttle.
Kapow!
and
Kaplooey!
Respectively.
By that time, I had worked up quite the sweat.
Let me go on record by saying that getting lycra up and over hot flesh in late June is not only challenging, it's damn near miraculous and it became a coordinated effort of stuffing, placement, and breath holding so that by the time everything was in place, I was not only stuffed into the panty girdle, I was hermetically sealed.
It was uncomfortable, but it gave me really good posture.
That is until I dropped something onto the floor and bent over to pick it up.
The bending motion set off a chain of events that, in retrospect, should have been anticipated because the panty girdle expanded beyond capacity.
Anyone who's ever worn control top knows that this can only mean one thing - the terrible and inevitable BLOOP.
The lycra holds for as long as it can and then lets go.
Suddenly everything that is being held within its grip is released as the waist band rolls down, and it all pops out.
***
Epilogue: I am currently relaxed and comfortable in The Poolboy's boxer shorts. You can't even tell under my skirt and there is a lovely breeze...
Happy hump day everyone!
xoxo
Not sure what to cook for Weekday Wednesday?
How about my Crunchy Chicken Ceasar Wraps?
For the printable recipe, please click HERE
Tweet
Bring the daily magic of The Kitchen Witch straight to your inbox every time a new one is written.
Or you can subscribe by rss feed...
Subscribe in a reader
Oh my goodness!! Lyndsay, you seriously have me laughing out loud here. Thanks for the chuckle. lol
ReplyDeletePS Do you laundry dear. :)
ROFL, Oh my God Thank you so much for sharing that!!! Just what I needed to lighten my tired and cranky mood. I've yet to attempt any body shaping under garments and I am sure on that one faithful day when I'm standing in the underwear section at some random store, I will be laughing out loud to myself, thinking about this post!!
ReplyDeleteoh Lyndsay, I'm still chuckling. I love your writing. Here's me, reading along, and when it gets to "I realized I no longer wanted to shop at The Real Canadian Superstore for my underwear", I can't contain myself. Oh man, tears...
ReplyDeleteLyndsay, you had me laughing out loud also. I could just imagine every moment you were describing. I will never forget the first time I wore a girdle. I was having "female problems" and my Dr. said if I wore a girdle it would help with the pain. There I was, just 19, at a Tupperware party when they handed out paper and pen for the games. Who would have guessed in a million years, that the first question would be, "Who here is wearing a girdle?" I must have turned 50 shades of purple. Men certainly never have these kinds of issues!!! Oh by the way, I headed to the ladies room rather quickly and then headed to the kitchen to help the hostess, thereby sidestepping the games, tee hee.
ReplyDeleteHa ha ha!! Patti, that's hilarious!
Delete