Let’s be honest: I needed a term like “girdle.” It’s bold and straightforward, unlike those sugar-coated alternatives like “shapewear” or “body briefer.” I had a mere three hours to shed 20 pounds before a special dinner, and these pantyhose were my last resort.
With a mix of hope and trepidation, I guessed my size, made the purchase, and bolted home. When I pulled the pantyhose from the package, they tumbled to the floor—no, not just to the floor but down the hall. These things were at least 8 feet long! The girdle portion alone seemed to stretch for miles. A quick check of the sizing confirmed that I had chosen the right fit; there was no mention of “irregular” anywhere. If I wasn’t already stressed about my dress fitting, this absurdity would have made me burst into laughter. Clearly, these pantyhose were designed for someone much taller than me, perhaps even a supermodel.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I took a deep breath. I knew I had to get it right on the first try. Once I squeezed into these, there would be no going back—scissors were likely my only escape route. The back of the package showed a slender silhouette, suggesting that the waistline was meant to cling beneath the breasts. I pondered this: could all the unwanted rolls below my waistline be pushed upward, creating an unintentional boost in my bust? Regardless of intent, I was intrigued!
Now, I won’t bore you with all the details—let’s just say there was a fair amount of swearing, hopping, and perspiration involved. Thankfully, the girdle stretched just enough to embrace my entire midsection. I expected to love my new, slim figure, but the pain soon overshadowed any joy. My circulation was suffering, and breathing had turned into a series of short, shallow gasps.
Time was ticking, so I had to push through. I would have to accept the fact that the waistband sat two inches lower than it should have. Short strides were now my reality. I grabbed my dress and wriggled into it. At the restaurant, I stepped out of the car, moving with small, calculated steps while trying to maintain a flat stomach and full breasts.
As I approached the entrance, I caught a whiff of freshly cut grass. I pinched my nose, fearing what might come next. Too late! Robust sneezes erupted uncontrollably. The waistband couldn’t withstand the force of my third sneeze—it rolled down like a Swiss roll. Gravity took charge, and my tummy spilled over, finally free!
I inhaled deeply for the first time in what felt like forever. Undeterred, I shuffled toward the door. Short steps, deep breaths, and a now liberated belly!
This article was originally published on June 17, 2015. If you’re interested in more relatable stories, check out our post on treating infertility. For those considering at-home options, Make A Mom offers reputable insemination kits that might interest you.
In summary, my adventure with girdle-top pantyhose was an experience filled with humor, struggle, and unexpected outcomes. It’s a reminder that sometimes, even in moments of fashion desperation, the journey is just as entertaining as the destination.
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