PANTS!!!

MRS TWIT v SUCK YOU IN PANTS

I don’t know if anyone else has this thought process. Try outfit on, inspect butt, back, front etc in the bright, cold harsh lighting of a retail changing room and immediately go into a spiral of self-loathing. The outfit could look banging but those bastarding cubicles of doom, intended to make you want to purchase things, just make you actually want to peel all the clothes off and run about the shop making feral noises because you actually feel like Mrs Twit.

This is then shortly followed by the next disturbing justification. “once I’ve got good knickers on this will look so much better”. Code for “I’m off to Marks and Spencer to buy some suck-you-in pants”.

So off you trot and end up in front of a sea of bizarre shaped contraptions, pants with basically a shield that goes up to your armpits, things that look suspiciously like a wrestling one-piece (and you know that’s an indicator of how much effort it’s going to take to get on and off), shiny things, gussets that open, cycling shorts, corsets, vests and all in a variety of black, beige and white lycra. It’s a fucking mine field. If you pick the wrong thing surely the fat is going to escape somewhere and form a fat bubble somewhere weird. You finally choose your torture contraption only to skip up to the smiling, nice lady on the till for her to announce “that’ll be 7 million pounds and 99 pence please”. OK, that’s an exaggeration but they are fucking expensive and out of desperation we’ll pay it. God forbid should anyone see a lump, bump or bit of cellulite.

I have been guilty of purchasing these contraptions over the years. And I never end up wearing them… Why? Firstly, to any fat-sucking-pants-virgins, going to the bog in these things isn’t just a faff, it’s like that scene in Friends where Ross wears the leather pants. You will end up with your pants around your knees, out of breath and wondering if you’ll ever get them back up, praying that no one thinks you’ve gone for a poo. And for those that have poppers on the gusset or a pee hole, well I’m sorry but the poppers ones ping up to your chest and opens up a new fresh hell and I’m also not going undercrackerless in that shiny, sweat-inducing fabric!

Secondly, I don’t know if this effects anyone else… But yes they “smooth” me out, but into a perfect sphere. I actually loose my waist and that’s a bit of me I like!

I went to a Gatsby themed wedding and treated myself to a beautiful (and expensive but so fricking worth it) dress from Lady Gatsby. I ordered about 6 different dresses to get an idea of the best dress for me. Each one, beaded, fringed, and beautifully made, the layered fabric clinging to my curves and of course I don’t have the straight up and down ideals of the 1920s figure. I kept thinking, I’ll get some REALLY good suck-you-in pants. They actually looked pants. I showed my photo to my friends in my Secret Girl Gang and it was unanimous. Lose the suck-you-in pants. I did and I rocked the SHIT of that dress and not a single person commented on my lack of smooth contours, in fact all I received was compliments.

I know why we do it, it’s like a security blanket, the same way we’ll wear a one-piece to the beach rather than a bikini. We’re convinced it hides our imperfections, that by making my body a couple of centimetres more squished in, we won’t get ridiculed or noticed.

From now on I’ll get undies that make me feel comfortable and beautiful. I love Evans’ “comfort” shorts to sort my summer chub-rub out… Not exactly sexy but are a fucking lifesaver when it’s too hot for tights!

By the way did I tell you…? Your body is perfect with or without the suck-you-in pants!

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