Foundation Undergarments: Modern Instruments of Torture

(originally posted August 2007 via Y360)

I was raised to believe that the basis for dressing well consisted of good foundation undergarments. For those of you who weren't raised by Elizabeth Jefferson -- that means a GOOD girdle (longline w/panels over lower tummy and extra bands over the bias hipline - from bra line to knee) and a proper bra.

Let's keep it real... good girdles and such can make or break an outfit....you've seen the difference between the muffin top and the nice smooth line between your bra line and hip line. One thing I hate about long-leg girdles is the obvious delineation on the thigh a couple of inches above the knee (thank god for Spanx, that line is virtually unnoticeable).

Those of you who have met me in person know that my bras are engineering marvels and they all require metal (if I'm doing anything other than breathing heavy). I pay a GRIP for my bras too.. and nothing fries my ass faster than seeing one of those little stays pop out of the side, or to bust an underwire out. Yes, technically I CAN make bras but the findings are a bitch, as is the fitting so I'll just keep buying balconettes from LB. They keep these jokers riding high and sitting pretty, but I'll be damned if sometimes those straps don't just dig all in my shoulders or the hooks irritate my BACK!

I remember going to the club when I was younger... and honey we would be dressed to the nines. There were times that I had on so much spandex under my clothes, a dude could have slapped me with a charge of false advertising on the basis that my shit was CORRECT from what he could see... I'd get home and get to peeling off layers of girdle and control top pantyhose and then it was a damn Jell-o commercial, but I digress.

Well today I decided to pull out one of my favorite dresses. It's a floor length v-neck (front and back) Michael Kors dress with an interior bodysuit done in a blue-black double knit. I know I should have hung this dress up in the closet in the sky a long time ago ... I didn't alter the pattern properly and the fit is off. Plus I've gained some weight but I couldn't resist it. I figured that as long as I put on my "good panties" I'd be okay.

*wincing and wiping a tear*

I bought the drawers I have on today from Lane Bryant a number of years ago. They are seamless, double layered heavyweight spandex with elastic on the legs that could hold in the wrinkles on an ELEPHANT. I'm not ashamed to say that I even have on a pair of Spanx, on the OUTSIDE of the bodysuit that makes the inside of this dress stay down.

What I AM crying about is the fact that all this whatnot that is keeping my jelly from jamming all over the place is literally chewing at my thighs. I cannot throw these undergarments away as I paid a great deal for them... but there are three hours remaining in this day and I'm not so sure I'm going to make it. I figured since I got to dance class way early LAST week I'd just leave my clothes in the car and change when I got there but lawwwwrdamerccccccy... I think I'm going to have to lose some of what's going on under this dress before I get to the damn car.

It wasn't so bad while I was standing but the fact that I sit all day has me all hemmed the hell up. I swear to God... I wish I was like some of these chicks I see with no pride walking around swinging more loose meat than that which you'd see in the window of a Jewish delicatessen, but I can't do it. If looking at another woman inside her clothes makes me think of topographic maps and chicken pockmarks something is WRONG!

*breathing slowly*

I swear it's HELL being this big and trying to keep yourself together...

Y'all will excuse me whilst I dip to the bathroom and get rid of some of this crap??

... *tugging*